


Love You, Hate You

by QuitePuzzledIAm



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angry Kyoutani but he's soft, Clueless Kyoutani, Coughing fits, Erotic Dreams, Explicit Language, Hanahaki Disease, Hospitals, I Will Not Reveal Anything About the Plot Hehe!, I'm Sorry, It may get dark toward the end, Kyoutani Has a Sister, Love/Hate, M/M, Rejections, Watari is a Single Pringle, Work In Progress, some making out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 29,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuitePuzzledIAm/pseuds/QuitePuzzledIAm
Summary: Kyoutani Kentarou, the Mad Dog, the snappish, rude teenage wing spiker of Aoba Johsai cannot be loved, cannot be tamed. Yahaba Shigeru, the docile, caring second-year setter, gets rejected by him. Suddenly, Kyoutani falls ill with a terrible, flowering disease. Love is the painless cure, but how can he get it?Heyo! Entities, I put the "Teen and Up Audiences" thingy in the audience level thing. I am NOT saying that you have to be a teenager to read this, it's just a warning for some language and more touchy subjects. If you feel like you can definitely read this, go ahead, it's a pleasure writing for you! Again, I am not trying to limit this fic to anyone, it's just a little warning SINCE WHO THE FOOK READS THE TAGS NOT ME HA
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira, Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru
Comments: 529
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ENTITIES WELCOME BACK I AM BACKKKKKKKK HELLOOOOOOOOOO WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO :))))))))))))))))))))))))
> 
> you know me, first few chapters are hella short but I'll get into it soon! Nice to see yall again!

Kyoutani didn’t know what love was. He didn’t have a reason to want to know. There was no valid fucking reason why he should have yearned for love. Why would he? He’d been dubbed “the lone wolf” at his school, his volleyball team annoyed him, and he didn’t give two flying, fucking shits. That was the way life went, and Kyoutani Kentarou was perfectly fine living that way. 

“Mad Dog-chan!” an annoyingly bright voice chirped at him. It was seven in the morning, on a perfectly fine Saturday, and Kyoutani was already pissed. 

“Don’t goddamn call me that,” Kyoutani growled, gripping the volleyball in between his hands. Oikawa Tooru loped over to him, his lanky frame both slender and athletic, something that made the girls go wild for him. And Kyoutani despised him. 

“Mad Dog-chan,” Oikawa continued, ignoring Kyoutani. “I’ve been noticing these horribly ugly black circles around your eyes.”

Oikawa tapped at the skin around his own eyes to indicate the area. Kyoutani felt his face curl into a grimace. 

“What the fuck do you want?” he snapped, pounding the volleyball on the gym floor a few times, trying to get Oikawa to  _ leave him the fuck alone.  _

“Well, as your fabulous upperclassmen, I just want to know if you’re sleeping well!” Oikawa beamed, and Kyoutani squinted. Oikawa wanted something from him, he just knew it. 

“Look,  _ Oikawa,”  _ Kyoutani spat, as venomously as he could. “It’s not fucking dark circles.”

Oikawa didn’t flinch a bit at the vulgar language and the heavy accusation on his name. Oikawa never flinched at anything, except Iwaizumi. And that made Kyoutani even madder. 

“Well, what is it then?” Oikawa probed. Kyoutani blinked a few times. Dammit. He walked right into this one. 

“Eyeliner,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Oikawa prompted, cupping a ear to Kyoutani, who cursed internally quite a bit even for him. 

“Fucking eyeliner,” he raised his voice, and crossed his arms, having finally dropped the volleyball. He glared at Oikawa. 

“Wow!” Oikawa smiled. “Mad Dog-chan wears eyeliner?”

Before Kyoutani could start cussing Oikawa out, a voice interrupted their conversation.

“Don’t act like you don’t wear five layers of foundation or something like that, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi scolded, smacking Oikawa on the back of the neck. 

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whined. 

“Oh?” Hanamaki slid over to them. “How would Iwaizumi-kun know about Oikawa-kun’s five layers of foundation?”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi both turned a light shade of pink, and Kyoutani squinted at the two of them. Weird. 

“I sensed tension and came as soon as I could,” another bitch-voice popped up. Matsukawa. Hanamaki’s wingman, best friend, and boyfriend, as Kyoutani accidentally found out when he stumbled upon the two of them making out heavily in the supply room. They told him teasingly not to tell anyone and sauntered away, and he tried to get rid of the furious red on his cheeks afterward. Then he decided that that wasn’t a sight he wanted to see ever again, so he kept his mouth shut about it. Kyoutani wasn’t  _ that  _ petty to try and out his upperclassmen. He had standards. 

“Makki, Mattsun!” Oikawa tried to change the subject. “I thought you said you were too tired to come to this extra practice!”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa looked at each other before making a small “meh” sound at the same time. 

“Just came to embarrass you two,” Hanamaki nodded at Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi smacked Oikawa in the neck again, even though the latter hadn’t done anything. 

“I’m coming for your pressure points if you do that again, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whined. 

“Ooh, sounds kinky,” Matsukawa laughed. Oikawa turned to him, sputtering, and began scurrying to the other side of the gym. Matsukawa and Hanamaki continued their wolf-whistling at Iwaizumi and Oikawa, who weren’t looking at each other. 

After their antics, they turned to face Kyoutani.  _ Fuck. I should’ve left.  _

“So,” Matsukawa kissed his teeth, pondering something. He looked Kyoutani up and down, and Kyoutani felt something inside him flare up. 

“The fuck do you fuckers want?” he hissed. He shouldn’t have been talking like this to his upperclassmen, but he knew that Makki and Mattsun never minded whatsoever. 

“Oooh,” Hanamaki winced jokingly. “I can’t believe  _ this  _ is what our poor Yahaba is falling for.”

Kyoutani almost let that last sentence fly over his head. He blinked, his eyebrows scrunched together. Makki and Mattsun had similar smirks on their faces, and Kyoutani wanted to deck the hell out of them both. 

“What did you just say?” Kyoutani asked slowly. 

“You heard us,” Matsukawa shrugged. 

“Let’s go. We need to let our kouhai let the gears turn a bit,” Hanamaki tugged at Matsukawa’s shirt sleeve before they sauntered off. 

Kyoutani was left staring at their backs, thinking that the volleyball on the ground would be a perfect projectile at the two of them if he threw it hard enough. His thoughts were interrupted by a stern voice. 

“Kyoutani-kun, get your head in the game,” Yahaba Shigeru scolded him. Kyoutani turned to the number one most annoying fucking person in the world and he scowled. Fucking Yahaba, with his weird fucking hair and deceivingly nice fucking personality and fucking ability to somehow make Kyoutani listen. 

“What game?” Kyoutani grumbled. “Nothing’s started.”

“Practice, Kyoutani-kun,” Yahaba sighed, and he picked up the volleyball. Kyoutani’s eyes unconsciously drifted to Yahaba’s ass before he got the better of himself and looked away. 

“What-fucking-ever,” Kyoutani sighed, and he snatched the volleyball away from Yahaba. 

“Don’t sass me,” Yahaba said, a warning on the tip of his voice. Kyoutani just sneered. 

“Unless you happen to be captain, I do whatever I want,” Kyoutani shot at the second-year setter. 

“Maybe I should call Oikawa over here and make him tell you to practice, then,” Yahaba curled his lip. 

“Do it,” Kyoutani snapped, taking a step closer to Yahaba, who held his head high and stared back, his round eyes narrowing. “Fucking dare you to. Go run to your upperclassmen, crying for your mommy.”

“Oikawa-kun!” Yahaba turned his head to call out to Oikawa, who looked over. “Help me get this dipshit in line.”

“What the fuck did you call me?” Kyoutani spat. 

Oikawa was over in a second, twirling a volleyball between his hands. “Mad Dog-chan, getting in trouble, are we?”

Kyoutani paused. Even though Tooru Oikawa seemed like a prick and a stuck-up little shit, he was still plenty terrifying when he wanted to be. For instance, currently Oikawa was smiling, a sickly-sweet grin painted on his face. His eyes told differently, watching Kyoutani with a threat in the chocolate-brown. Iwaizumi glanced over but didn’t do a thing. 

“Fine,” Kyoutani shrugged, playing it off cool. “Whatever.”

“Yay!” The glint in Oikawa’s eyes was gone now, and Kyoutani sighed inwardly. Oikawa skipped away to the other third years and began chatting and practicing with them. Kyoutani felt a tap on his shoulder and he whirled around, a sneer on his face. 

“Try your best,” Yahaba offered, his voice clear and his eyes kind. Kyoutani blinked, reeled back, and scowled. 

“Fuck you,” he snarled, then stormed away to anywhere but near the little shit. 


	2. Fuck No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WHATTDUPPPPPPPPPPPP YESS IF YOU COULDNT TELL I AM BACK WITH KYOUHABAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> *weeee are the champiooonnss*
> 
> if you are new to me,   
> hi! I'm QuitePuzzledIAm, also called Author-chan if you don't wanna type out my whole name. 
> 
> I call you guys my entities, as I did in my last story, and I decided that KyouHaba was going to be the second fic I do! I took suggestions and I think I'm gonna do EraserMic, MomoJirou, and maybe some UshiTen!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AY YO YO Y YOOOOOOOOOOO
> 
> CURRENTLY FALLING IN LOVE WITH THE BEATLES AND BRENDON AT THE SAMMME TIMME WHAT A WORLD I LIVE IN
> 
> ENJOY THIS NEW CHAPTER OF WHAT I CALL A FIC BUT IS ACTUALLY TWO CHAPTERS OF TSUNDERE KYOUTANIIIIIIIIIIIIII WOOOOOOOO

Don’t get him wrong. Kyoutani tried. He really did. He tried his best and he could put 110% into volleyball, but he would still seem like a slacker because his 110% could never,  _ ever  _ compare to Iwaizumi’s 110%, or Oikawa’s. Trying was just so tiring, and Kyoutani had trouble sleeping enough already. Sometimes, he felt like he should quit volleyball and do whatever he wanted, to be free from the gym and practices and lectures. 

But he found himself at practice eventually, even if he missed a few of them. And for the few he missed, he always got told off by Yahaba. Ya-fucking-haba. What was up with that bitch? Always there, always flitting around and ready to help people or some shit. Didn’t he know that Kyoutani didn’t want his help? Apparently not, since he was always breathing on Kyoutani’s neck about something that might have happened a few weeks ago. 

“Fuck him,” Kyoutani growled as he made his way to the dorms and stalked into his room. 

“Oh- hey!” Watari Shinji, who was sitting on his own bed, took one look at Kyoutani and paled. “N-nevermind, man.”

Kyoutani didn’t say a thing as he deposited his bag and his books onto his desk. He could feel Watari’s anxious eyes on his back, and he sighed inwardly. Watari was one of the only people who didn’t really piss him off, mainly because he kept to himself and Kyoutani did, too. Kyoutani pursed his lips before whirling around and glaring at Watari. 

“The fuck you starin’ at me for?” Kyoutani shot. 

To his surprise, Watari just raised his head and squared his shoulders. 

“Don’t curse too much. It doesn’t do anything,” Watari said softly. Kyoutani squinted his eyes in disbelief. 

“Don’t stare too much. It doesn’t do anything,” he mocked in Watari’s voice before plopping down at his desk. 

“Sorry. Can I talk to you about something?” Watari asked from behind him. 

Kyoutani grunted, yanking out his books and homework with too much force to be necessary. He flipped open a book and started writing. 

“Okay,” Watari started, and Kyoutani felt himself stop writing to listen. “I just need to know what kind of things you like.”

Kyoutani spun around and sat forward in his chair, staring at Watari. Watari tried a small smile, but Kyoutani felt his upper lip curl. 

“What the fuck?” he asked. 

“I meant-” Watari took a deep breath. “Dammit, this is what I get for trying to be a good friend?”

Kyoutani snorted. “You think you’re being a good friend right now?”

“Not to you! To Yaha-” Watari cut off immediately and swallowed. Kyoutani furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Fucking Yahaba? What’s he got to do with this?” Kyoutani frowned. 

“No, no!” Watari ran a hand over his buzz cut, obviously nervous. “I just… He just needs… to…”

“Stalk me,” Kyoutani offered, feeling something dangerous bubble up inside him.  _ I swear to God, if this guy doesn’t tell me, I’ll beat it out of him.  _

“NO!” Watari exclaimed. “He needs to- ugh.” Watari slumped down onto his pillows, staring up at the ceiling. Kyoutani tapped his foot impatiently. “He likes you.”

“Huh?” Kyoutani held back a snort. 

“He likes you. And you can’t tell him I said that, since I’m his best friend and he trusts me! Well- trusted, now,” Watari looked over at him. 

“He doesn’t like me,” Kyoutani wanted to laugh, but he didn’t want Watari seeing him doing it. He didn’t let anyone see him laugh. 

“Yeah. Yeah he does,” Watari let out a breath. 

“He fuckin’ yells at me, he doesn’t like me,” Kyoutani scoffed, turning back to his homework. “Who knew you could crack jokes?”

“It’s not a joke,” Watari insisted. “He really likes you, he just covers it up well.”

“You can tell him that I don’t like him back,” Kyoutani said breezily, waving his pencil at Watari. “And tell him to go fuck himself while you’re at it.”

“You… You really don’t like him?” Watari’s voice was disbelieving, and Kyoutani wanted to really laugh now. He turned around in his chair, staring at Watari intensely, making the other boy shrink back slightly. 

“I made it very fucking clear, didn’t I?” Kyoutani said slowly. 

“Yeah,” Watari sighed. “I guess you did.”

Kyoutani shook his head and faced his homework again. 

  
  


Apparently, Watari hadn’t relayed the message to Yahaba, since the latter kept coming back to annoy Kyoutani. And that fucker knew what he was doing. Something was off, though. Yahaba had paled a lot, and there were purple-gray bags under his eyes. His hair was often unkempt and his bangs fell in his face. 

Kyoutani was tempted to tease Yahaba about this, just to piss him off, but something about Yahaba’s lack of spirit and enthusiasm made him halt. Another part of him wanted to aggressively shake Yahaba by the shoulders and tell him to go the fuck to sleep, because Kyoutani recognized those dark circles. They were the same ones he had, but he wore heavy eyeliner to play it off cool. 

Which only made him wonder, what was keeping Yahaba Shigeru up at night, two dorms down from his own? Was it nightmares? Thoughts? Fears? Kyoutani was a curious guy, and even though he had to suppress that curiosity often, he found himself thinking more and more about Yahaba. For instance, he noticed that he was looking at the boy way too much. So much, that his upperclassmen confronted him about it. 

“Mad Dog-chan!” a familiar voice called to him after school as he was striding to the gym. Kyoutani groaned and turned around, looking wearily at Oikawa, who was accompanied by Iwaizumi, who was tailed by Makki and Mattsun, both grinning cheekily. 

“What?” Kyoutani rolled his eyes. He refrained from using too much bad language around Iwaizumi, since the last time he did it, the other had sent him a disappointed look, one that tore at Kyoutani’s insides and made him feel worthless. He hated that feeling, so he warned himself not to swear when the four of them approached him. 

“We’ve just noticed,” Makki began. 

“That you,” Mattsun smirked. 

“Have been looking,” they finished together.

“What the actual-” Kyoutani cut off, catching a glimpse of Iwaizumi’s brief head-shake. 

“We, as your upperclassmen, have been finding that you, dear kouhai, have been staring,” Oikawa beamed. 

“What they mean to say is that you’ve been staring at Yahaba a lot,” Iwaizumi supplied helpfully. 

“Okay, and?” Kyoutani raised an eyebrow at them. Makki and Mattsun exchanged looks of disbelief, but Oikawa leaned toward him. 

“Tell me, Mad Dog-chan, do you know what a crush is?” Oikawa flashed a smile. 

“What the hell?” Kyoutani bent back a little. “‘Course I know! I’m not stupid!”

Makki and Mattsun snickered at his last sentence, and he glared at the two of them, feeling very much like a specimen on a table, being taken apart and studied by his upperclassmen. 

“I think,” Oikawa beamed. “You have a not-so-little crush on Yahaba-chan!”

There it was again! All these innuendos that Yahaba liked him and he liked Yahaba, when in reality it was just two people who hated each other’s guts. 

“No!” Kyoutani ran a hand through his short hair. “No, I don’t! Why does everyone believe this?”

“Well,” Makki popped up from behind Iwaizumi. “You’re staring at him all the time.”

“You’re probably shy,” Mattsun chimed in. 

“You were slammed onto a wall by him, which was pretty hot,” Makki grinned. Kyoutani felt his face turn red, and he wanted to curse at these two. 

“And we all know that you hate to cover up your feelings,” Mattsun nodded. 

“Shut up!” was all Kyoutani could say. 

“It is pretty obvious,” Iwaizumi shrugged, adjusting his bag. 

“I don’t like him!” Kyoutani heard himself say. “I fucking hate his guts, he fucking hates mine, and that’s that!”  
The four of them stared at him in shock. Kyoutani felt a feeling of triumph swell up inside of him, and he puffed out his chest a bit. Then he realized that they were looking at something behind him. Kyoutani turned around slowly to see Yahaba Shigeru, standing stiff as a board and his face crumpled into one Kyoutani couldn’t comprehend. Watari was next to him, and he tugged at Yahaba’s arm. 

Then Yahaba looked at him. Kyoutani felt like everything else disappeared, and it was just the two of them. He couldn’t say anything, and Yahaba didn’t either. The latter looked like he was going to fall apart, right then and there, and Kyoutani felt himself lurch forward. Why was he lurching forward?

Something broke, and his surroundings all came back. Yahaba blinked a few times, and he whirled around before yanking Watari with him into the gym. 

Kyoutani’s mouth was open. What the fuck just happened?

“Ah, shit,” Makki whispered. 

“You’re in for it now,” Oikawa patted Kyoutani on the back. 

Kyoutani was still trying to figure out what had just happened, and then it hit him. The look on Yahaba’s face, that broken emotion that Kyoutani knew was familiar- that was pain. Pain, in its raw form. Pain that Kyoutani had caused. And pain that made him reel backwards and take a moment to just think-  _ What did you just do? _


	3. Not-Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *wiggles eyebrows*
> 
> bet yall werent expecting this one
> 
> and sorry for the late update, school stuff started and groooosssssss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO ENTITIES WELCOME BACK TO ANOTHER EPISODE OF KYOUHABA TENSION
> 
> FROM HATE
> 
> TO DISLIKE
> 
> TO MUTUAL AGREEMENT OF NOT HATING EACH OTHER
> 
> *clap clap* THIS IS THE DEVELOPMENT THAT I WROTE AND IS SHIT BUT I LOVE IT

Yahaba didn’t talk to anyone but Watari the entire week. Kyoutani knew, he was constantly sneaking peeks over at the brown-haired boy. Apparently, his fellow teammates were also beginning to get worried. Oikawa and the other third-years had whispered amongst themselves before Iwaizumi headed over to a blank-faced Yahaba with a solemn expression. Yahaba and him talked for a bit, Yahaba wearing a forced smile and Iwaizumi nodding his head over to the third-years. Kyoutani couldn’t make out the words they were saying, but he could tell from the way Yahaba shook his head gently and how Iwaizumi handed him a water bottle that he was actually concerned. 

Yahaba made a point of not looking at Kyoutani whatsoever. He didn’t come over to tell Kyoutani to focus, or to pay attention, or to try his best. Kyoutani simply… wasn’t there to Yahaba. And from the looks of it, Yahaba kept his mouth shut the entire time, too. Normally, Kyoutani would have gladly accepted this, but under the circumstances, he was starting to feel a little uncomfortable sensation in his stomach. 

“Hey,” Kyoutani growled at Watari one day while practicing. Watari glanced over at him, cleared his throat, and turned to the practice game the third-years were playing. 

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice clear but small. 

“What’s up with him?” Kyoutani pointed at Yahaba, who was throwing a volleyball against the side of the bleachers robotically.  _ Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.  _

Watari took a swig from his water bottle, wiped his forehead, and turned to Kyoutani. Kyoutani stared back. Watari chewed his bottom lip before taking a deep breath. 

“You’re what’s up with him,” he sighed. 

Kyoutani didn’t say anything as Watari got up, set his water down, and ran out to the court, joining one of the practice games. Kyoutani followed him and took his position. 

“What do you mean?” he hissed toward Watari. 

“You know what I mean,” Watari mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. Then the game began, and Kyoutani was forced to keep his mouth shut. 

Volleyball was a distraction to Kyoutani. He was competitive as hell, and he loved the feeling of the ball smacking against his hand as he spiked it over the net. Sure, he may not have been the best or anything, and he hardly enjoyed it, but it was the feeling of winning, that feeling when he pounded the score in for real, that was what kept him coming back to the gym every day… most days. 

There was something else that kept him going, other than the feeling of winning and the satisfaction of the feeling of the ball. It was that silver-brown-haired dipshit. Ever since Yahaba grabbed him by the collar and slammed him onto the wall, Kyoutani felt something roar inside of him. It wasn’t fear, no, Kyoutani rarely felt fear. It was a challenge, it was a dare to himself. 

_ Can you work hard? Can you prove this fucker that you can put 110% in? _

Yahaba had shocked him that day, Kyoutani admitted it. It was slightly surprising to have this normally-dulcet boy yelling at him to push himself, work himself harder. So Kyoutani tried to be on time. He tried to put all of himself into what he was doing. He tried, tried, tried, and yet Yahaba’s voice was always in the back of his head. 

Every time he sent a perfect spike over the net, every time he ground that last point into stone, Yahaba was there. And Kyoutani was almost embarrassed of the fact that he heard the voice saying, “Good job!” or “You fucking got this!” He felt himself puff up with pride. Of course, no one could or would ever know about this little voice. In fact, he himself got a bit flushed by using this voice as motivation. 

After the game, Kyoutani decided he’d had fucking enough. He’d had enough of Yahaba not trying, his sets weak and unfocused. Not trying was Kyoutani’s thing. Yahaba couldn’t steal it from him now. 

So Kyoutani, ignoring the suggestive stares from Oikawa and Iwaizumi, marched up to Yahaba and gathered the setter’s jersey in his fist and dragged him into the locker room. To his brief surprise, Yahaba let himself be yanked along. Kyoutani, still holding Yahaba by the shirt collar, pushed him onto the lockers (a bit gently, since Yahaba still looked dead inside). 

“Alright, what’s wrong with you?” Kyoutani demanded, watching Yahaba carefully. Yahaba looked even worse up close, rings of dark shadows around his eyes and his skin pasty- almost deathly. Kyoutani felt a stab of concern. But then it was replaced by panic when Yahaba just stared back. “HEY!” Kyoutani hated the way his voice sounded so desperate. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“Shut up,” Yahaba mumbled. Kyoutani let that slide, since he probably deserved it. 

“Ok, I’ll shut up,” Kyoutani let out a deep breath. “Now tell me what’s up with you. Now.”

“Why should I tell you?” Yahaba chuckled dryly, the sound dull and fake. “You fucking hate my guts, remember?”

Kyoutani did remember. The way Yahaba looked so stunned, helpless after his outburst to the third-years. He swallowed hard and leaned in toward Yahaba just a bit. 

“You fucking hate mine, too,” Kyoutani retaliated, his eyes flicking to Yahaba’s. 

Yahaba blinked slowly, as if he thought Kyoutani was actually, genuinely stupid. “I don’t fucking hate your guts,” Yahaba said, a glimmer of confusion flashing across his eyes. Now Kyoutani blinked. 

“What?” was all he could say. 

“I don’t,” Yahaba said again. “What made you think that?”

A billion thoughts rushed through Kyoutani’s head. Yahaba always nagging him. Yahaba scolding him. Yahaba just…hovering over his shoulder constantly. 

“But… you hate me,” Kyoutani insisted. It would be so much easier if Yahaba just agreed, but Yahaba, tired or not, was still Yahaba. A flicker of irritation morphed over Yahaba’s face. For some reason, this look made Kyoutani relax just a bit. 

“I don’t, dipshit,” Yahaba scowled. 

“Don’t call me dipshit,” Kyoutani muttered, tightening his grip on Yahaba’s shirt. 

“From my point of view, you don’t seem to hate me that much, either,” Yahaba rolled his eyes. For the first time, Kyoutani realized that the setter’s face was dusted in a light pink.  _ Looks good on him,  _ a thought got the better of him. “I mean, we are in… some position,” Yahaba cleared his throat. 

Kyoutani blinked and discovered that the way they were standing was much closer than he had intended. Yahaba was pressed flat against the lockers, his hands curled into loose fists. Kyoutani was still gripping Yahaba’s shirt, but they were so near each other that their chests were almost touching, and Kyoutani could feel Yahaba’s breaths against him. 

Kyoutani jumped away, nearly tripping over one of the benches in his haste. Yahaba let out a deep sigh and practically sank to the floor, crossing his arms. 

“Are ya gonna tell me what’s fucking wrong with you?” Kyoutani sat down on a bench, resting his elbows on his knees. Yahaba looked up at him in exasperation. 

“Fuck,” Yahaba forced out. Kyoutani felt a crooked smile take over his face. He tilted his head at the setter, dipping his head slightly. He still hated Yahaba, but… maybe he could stop hating him for just a little bit. “I’m just tired.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Kyoutani snorted. Yahaba shot him a glare, but it lacked the usual intensity. 

“You probably think you’re just so superior, don’t you?” Yahaba spat, looking back down at the floor. Kyoutani squinted. Annoyed? Yes. Demanding? Yes. Competitive? Yes. But superior? Kyoutani never felt the urge to rule over everything, to make everything his way. 

“Fuck no,” Kyoutani wrinkled his nose. “That’s the captain’s thing.”

Yahaba chuckled, a noise that made Kyoutani loosen up. Laughter was good, right? Laughter could be good. 

“Don’t view me as the dipshit you know,” Kyoutani told Yahaba, who stared at him. “See me as some random stranger who…” Kyoutani swallowed. “Cares about you. For now. Just a little bit.”

If Kyoutani hadn’t looked away in embarrassment, he would have caught a glimpse of Yahaba’s small smile, real and genuine. 

“Ok,” Yahaba nodded, and Kyoutani looked back at him. “Ok. That’s easy enough.”

Kyoutani grunted, trying to ignore the way his ears felt so warm. He raised his eyebrows at Yahaba, who took in a deep breath and then let it out again. 

“You already know why I’m this tired,” Yahaba muttered. 

“I have a fucking hunch, is more like,” Kyoutani rolled his eyes. 

“It’s simple. I like you,” Yahaba said. Kyoutani already knew this, so it didn’t hit him with the force of a whole bulldozer. It was still shocking to hear, though, coming out of Yahaba’s mouth instead of Makki and Mattsun’s. “That’s all. Nothing big. Just happened to catch feelings for the biggest asshole in the world.”

“Oi,” Kyoutani snarled, but Yahaba kept rattling on. 

“You don’t need to like me back or anything. I knew I didn’t have a chance, anyway,” Yahaba snorted, but Kyoutani could see pain in his eyes. “So you don’t need to worry about me. You never have, so you don’t need to now.”

Yahaba nodded, as if trying to convince himself. Kyoutani slid off of the bench and kneeled in front of the setter. Yahaba looked at him, pain in his eyes, yes, but also vulnerability. Kyoutani decided that this would be the one time that he wasn’t going to curse at Yahaba. 

“Look,” Kyoutani said. “You’re right. I don’t like you that way.”

Yahaba let out a laugh, a high and nervous sound, and Kyoutani shuffled closer to him. 

“But I don’t hate you, either,” Kyoutani admitted. “Not as much as I thought I did.”

“Oh,” Yahaba blinked. 

“So, truce,” Kyoutani held out a hand. “We don’t absolutely hate each other… but we still dislike each other.”

A lopsided smile spread across Yahaba’s face. He still looked helpless, but Kyoutani knew better. Yahaba was a strong person. He would get through this. 

“Deal,” Yahaba shook Kyoutani’s hand, and Kyoutani pulled the other to his feet. They looked at each other. 

“Still dislike you, though,” Kyoutani tsk-ed. Yahaba scowled, more playful than real. 

“Right back at you,” Yahaba grinned. 

“Now fucking get out there. I have to have a worthy opponent,” Kyoutani ordered. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Yahaba shot back, and the two of them bickered all the way out of the locker rooms. 


	4. Eyeliner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ugh kyoutani youre getting to yahaba too much
> 
> >:)
> 
> whaddup entities, ive been on a little break, had a bit of a block, but IM BACK WITH THE KYOUHABA *raises to the sky like jack and his jar of dirt*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> le question of the day:
> 
> favorite songs?
> 
> (i say songs since we all know we have more than one)
> 
> mine is currently for forever from Dear Evan Hansen or This is Gospel by P!ATD

There were subtle, small but noticeable changes between the two of them. Kyoutani bit back some excess curse words and bumped Yahaba in the shoulder more gently than he usually did. Yahaba didn’t use a harsh, snappish tone when talking to him, and gave him high-fives that left Kyoutani’s skin tingling in the best way possible. 

Something else had changed, too. 

Going to each other’s dorms had started, and it was going strong. It all began when Yahaba couldn’t get rid of the dark circles around his eyes. 

“I swear, I’m sleeping fine!” Yahaba insisted as he and Kyoutani walked to their next class together. 

“Uh huh,” Kyoutani grunted, adjusting his books. He examined Yahaba’s face from the side. The color had returned to the boy’s cheeks, his hair was once again tidy, and he looked perfectly fine. The only thing that was different was that Yahaba’s eyes were ringed with layers of shadows, but his pupils were focused and his eyes were twinkling. “Come to my dorm after school,” Kyoutani muttered to him. Yahaba blinked, then turned to him. 

“Okay?” Yahaba’s voice was uncertain, but he nodded nonetheless. “And for what?”

“Got somethin’ to show you,” was all Kyoutani said, before they shut their mouths upon entering the homeroom. 

Sure enough, after school, there was a knock at Kyoutani’s door. Watari glanced at it, then at Kyoutani. Kyoutani ignored the boy and went to open the door. 

“Hey,” Yahaba greeted, looking over Kyoutani to see Watari. Yahaba beamed, and waved at the other, who waved back. Kyoutani tried to ignore how bright, how innocent Yahaba looked when he was smiling. Yahaba looked back to Kyoutani. “So…”

“Right,” Kyoutani cleared his throat, then moved aside so that Yahaba could slip past him. 

“Well, I’m gonna go!” Watari exclaimed loudly, scooping up his bag and standing up. Yahaba and Kyoutani both looked at him in confusion. Watari looked back at them, a small grin on his face. “Especially since… you two… are gonna have some quality alone t-”

“Get out,” Yahaba and Kyoutani said at the same time. Kyoutani felt a burn across his neck, and one glance at Yahaba told him that the brunette was also blushing. 

“Alright, alright,” Watari mumbled, scooting past them. Kyoutani closed the door behind him and walked to his bed, grabbing a thin black pen from his desk. Yahaba followed, glancing at him nervously. It took a moment for Kyoutani to realize that Yahaba was still hovering behind him, fidgeting with his hands. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Kyoutani demanded, scooting over on the bed. “Get over here.”

“What?” Yahaba asked. 

“Hurry up, I don’t have all day,” Kyoutani scowled. Yahaba glared back at him, but slowly sat down next to him, perched delicately on the edge of the bed. Kyoutani turned to face him, uncapping the sleek pen. 

“What’s that?” Yahaba looked at the pen. 

“Eyeliner, moron,” Kyoutani rolled his eyes. Yahaba looked at him. 

“Uh-” Yahaba cleared his throat. “I don’t wear makeup?”

“Now you do,” Kyoutani shrugged, and he inched closer to Yahaba. The boy, probably instinctively, leaned away, a light pink on his cheeks. Yahaba swallowed. 

“What are you doing?” Yahaba sputtered. 

“What the hell? I’m helping you put this stuff on,” Kyoutani squinted. 

“Why?” Yahaba asked. Kyoutani had to stop himself from actually, honest-to-God, exploding. 

“Because I have the same problem as you,” Kyoutani said slowly, smirking slightly at the offended frown on Yahaba’s face. “And might as well just go the whole way.”

“Do you have to do it for me?” Yahaba stared at the pen in apprehension. 

“By all means, do it yourself,” Kyoutani nodded solemnly. “If you wanna walk out looking like a deformed raccoon, that is.”

There was a beat of silence, and Kyoutani toyed with the pen, examining Yahaba’s unreadable expression. 

“Okay,” Yahaba finally said, and Kyoutani let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. This time, he leaned in to Yahaba much more slowly, allowing the brunette to clear his throat and chew his lip, looking anywhere but at Kyoutani. 

“I don’t like it either, but at least I’m helping you,” Kyoutani muttered. Then he lifted a hand and let it rest on the side of Yahaba’s face. Yahaba made a choking, sputtering sound and twitched a little at Kyoutani’s touch. “Shut up,” Kyoutani growled, scooting forward on the bed so there were only a few inches between them. Kyoutani didn’t know this was how Yahaba was going to react. Then again, his own ears felt uncomfortably warm. Whatever, it wasn’t like they liked each other, or anything. He repeated this statement in his mind several times. 

Yahaba had nowhere to look but at Kyoutani, and Kyoutani watched his Adam’s apple bob nervously. 

_ Fuck this,  _ Kyoutani thought furiously. He used his other hand to grip the eyeliner pen and with one decisive, slow stroke, he traced a perfect line across Yahaba’s eye. The two of them let out a collective breath. 

“One more,” Kyoutani mumbled, and he shuffled around so he could have better access to Yahaba’s other eye. For a flicker of a second, Kyoutani glanced at Yahaba’s eyes, watching his every move with a glitter of anxiousness. Yahaba’s eyes were brown. A rich, melted-chocolate brown color, and against his rather pale skin, they looked so much more clear. A sliver of sunlight had fallen across Yahaba’s face, and illuminated one eye. Kyoutani stared at that eye, not exactly brown, but more of a caramel-gold, with flecks of dark black. That eye just so happened to be the one with eyeliner, and Kyoutani didn’t know why he hadn’t realized this before, but Yahaba was fucking good-looking with eyeliner. 

“Uh- Kyoutani-kun?” Yahaba’s voice made Kyoutani jolt. He immediately swore, and checked to make sure the eyeliner pen hadn’t let a jarring mark. Kyoutani looked from one eye to the other, then deciding where to apply more pressure, he swept another dark line across Yahaba’s eyelid. He stayed where he was for a brief second, admiring his handiwork and noticing how warm Yahaba’s cheek was under his palm. Kyoutani jumped backward, knowing that he had spent a beat too long staring at Yahaba, and he turned away to grab a mirror. 

“Now, instead of an ugly dipshit, you’re just a dipshit,” Kyoutani proclaimed, holding up a mirror to Yahaba’s face. Yahaba tilted his head, and Kyoutani watched a slow grin spread across his face. 

“Thank you, Kyoutani-kun,” Yahaba smiled at him, and Kyoutani wanted to pause time for just a moment, just to admire the way Yahaba’s eyes squinted a little, how his annoyingly perfect teeth flashed when he smiled, how there was a small dimple on the left side of his cheek. 

_ Fuck.  _


	5. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weve all had em
> 
> those horny dreams
> 
> ahem
> 
> dont lie we did
> 
> okay so my chapters are all short af so.... press Entire Work when reading? 
> 
> thanks, my friends
> 
> ;w;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, one and all, to the fabulous Author-chan's newest chapter!  
> Kyoutani may or may not be experiencing le gay shit!
> 
> And I may or may not be uploading this during school hours!
> 
> HA!
> 
> Question of the day:
> 
> what pets do yall want when you grow up?
> 
> i really wanna adopt a dog 
> 
> and name him kyoutani

Kyoutani didn’t know it was going to be this hard. He prided himself on doing things independently, not needing help from anyone or anything. So it was understandably incredibly difficult, standing here in front of the captain and vice-captain and his question on the tip of his tongue but not coming out. 

“Did you need something, Kyoutani?” Iwaizumi asked, his voice rumbling in an encouraging way. 

“Mad Dog-chan, do you need our help?” Oikawa leaned forward. “Advice? Some questions for your dear senpais?” 

Kyoutani bit back a snarl and crossed his arms, standing up a bit taller. Iwaizumi and Oikawa both looked at him, the latter’s eyes twinkling mischievously and the ace watching him closely. 

“Look,” Kyoutani swallowed hard. “Yeah. I need help.”

“Oh?” Oikawa asked at the same time Iwaizumi said, “With what?”

Kyoutani opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a high shriek. He jumped, and Iwaizumi smacked Oikawa, who had made the noise. Oikawa pointed at Kyoutani, hopping up and down eagerly. 

“It’s Yahaba-chan, isn’t it?” Oikawa squealed. Kyoutani grimaced, but that was all Oikawa needed for confirmation. “Oh my gosh, you have a huge crush on-”

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi growled, smacking Oikawa again. 

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whined, before turning back to Kyoutani, his eyes sparkling. “You like him!” Oikawa sang. Iwaizumi hit him for the third time, considerably harder than the last two times. “Iwa-chan, if you don’t stop that, I’m going to come for your pressure points!” Oikawa pouted. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, then looked at Kyoutani. 

“Is Loserkawa right, Kyoutani?” he asked, not unkindly. Kyoutani wanted to curse. He could lie to Oikawa, no problem, but Iwaizumi just  _ had  _ to be here. 

“Shit,” Kyoutani said under his breath, but Iwaizumi didn’t scold him. He just kept staring at Kyoutani. “I dunno,” Kyoutani finally sighed. 

“You dunno?” Oikawa tilted his head curiously. 

Kyoutani felt his ears burn. Damn. This was harder than he had ever expected. “I mean… Yahaba’s smart. And funny. And I think he got a lot nicer after we started talking… and- shit.” Kyoutani rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Do you think he’s cute?” Oikawa asked. Kyoutani sputtered. Iwaizumi kicked Oikawa this time, causing the setter to yelp and tip forward. Iwaizumi held out an arm and pushed Oikawa upright again. “First you kick me, then you save me, Iwa-chan, how am I supposed to feel?” Oikawa stuck out his bottom lip. Kyoutani wondered how Oikawa even survived without the ace. Iwaizumi ignored Oikawa’s question and kept watching Kyoutani. 

“Didn’t you say that you didn’t like him?” Iwaizumi asked. Kyoutani felt hot all of a sudden, and he pursed his lips. 

“I thought I didn’t,” Kyoutani said defensively. Iwaizumi hummed in acknowledgement, then turned around to look at a still-pouting Oikawa. 

“Shittykawa, wanna say something?” Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. Oikawa’s jaw dropped. Kyoutani hoped a fly would sail into his mouth. 

“Iwa-chan is asking for my advice?” Oikawa gasped. Iwaizumi squinted. 

“You’re the one getting confessions from girls,” Iwaizumi snapped. His voice sounded strangely bitter. “You’re the one with the romance skills.”

“One, I don’t accept those confessions,” Oikawa held up a finger. “Two, I like someone already.” Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, but Oikawa didn’t seem to notice. “Three, move aside. I’m about to give my sweet kouhai my fabulous expertise.”

“Didn’t your girlfriend break up with you?” Iwaizumi asked dully. 

“Anyways!” Oikawa said loudly, slipping past the vice captain to sling an arm around Kyoutani. Kyoutani bit back the urge to rip the arm out of its socket and beat Oikawa with it. “I need to know, on a scale of one to ten, how much you like him.”

“The hell?” Kyoutani snarled. 

“C’mon, Mad Dog-chan!” Oikawa grinned at him. 

“Fine,” Kyoutani scowled. “Like… a four.”

“Okay,” Oikawa mused. “I suggest you just get to know him better right now. Don’t move too fast. But don’t move too slowly,” Oikawa’s smile slid off of his face, and he looked at the ground. “If you move too slowly, you lose your chance.”

Kyoutani blinked, and stared at Oikawa, who had an unreadable expression upon his usually-smiling face. Then that moment was broken, and Oikawa shook his head, a rather forced smile upon his mouth once again. 

“Shoot your shot, Mad Dog-chan,” Oikawa chuckled. “I expect a thank you once it goes the way you planned.”

Kyoutani had a small voice inside telling him to ask what was wrong with Oikawa, but he already knew. Iwaizumi was staring at the captain, his eyes solemn. Kyoutani leaned over so he was whispering in Oikawa’s ear. 

“You should shoot your shot, too,” Kyoutani muttered, then pulled away. Oikawa looked at him, lips parted. “If you move too slowly, you lose your chance.”

“I already have,” Oikawa whispered distantly, the ghost of a smile still on his face. Iwaizumi was still staring at Oikawa. 

Kyoutani didn’t know what to say to that. He slowly detached himself from under Oikawa’s arm and gave a pat to the setter’s back. Then he turned and left, not looking back until he was sure they couldn’t see him from around the corner. He watched as Oikawa shuffled on his feet, then looked up at Iwaizumi. They seemed to be talking, and Kyoutani observed as the two of them started walking away, shoulders bumping against each other and Iwaizumi’s hand occasionally coming up to tug on a lock of Oikawa’s hair. 

Kyoutani tore his gaze away from them and started back to his dorm room, shoving his hands into his pockets and knowing all too well that when they went to practice tomorrow, Oikawa and Iwaizumi would be talking much more than usual. 

_ Yahaba was standing before him. They were in a place, Kyoutani didn’t care. All he saw was the brunette.  _

_ “What was that?” Yahaba asked.  _

_ “Huh?” Kyoutani asked.  _

_ “You were about to tell me something,” Yahaba tilted his head.  _

_ “I forgot,” Kyoutani heard himself say.  _

_ Yahaba started walking toward him, and Kyoutani couldn’t move his body. Yahaba stopped a few inches away, their noses almost touching. Strangely enough, Kyoutani didn’t feel flustered, just a pleasant buzzing warmth radiating from deep inside him.  _

_ “I can help you remember,” Yahaba smiled, and Kyoutani saw those caramel-brown eyes light up with a million colors. That was all he saw before Yahaba wrapped his arms around Kyoutani’s neck and kissed him.  _

_ Kyoutani’s mind went blank before it exploded with hues of red, purple, light turquoise. He paused for a moment before deciding to circle his arms around Yahaba’s waist. Kyoutani didn't know how to kiss very well, but it was easy with Yahaba. Something burned in his veins, made him growl into Yahaba’s mouth, and he pushed Yahaba back, the two of them stumbling along until they were on a wall. Where did the wall come from? Kyoutani didn’t care. He just felt Yahaba, Yahaba’s hair, which was softer than he’d expected in his loose grip, the way Yahaba’s back arched with Kyoutani’s hand pressed firmly against it. Kyoutani felt his leg slot between the setter’s, and Yahaba moaned.  _

_ Kyoutani had never heard anyone moan before, but the noises that Yahaba made when Kyoutani pressed his leg harder made him feel something dangerous. Kyoutani could feel Yahaba’s tongue in his mouth, warm and wet, and he felt inclined to do the same. It was all hot and tongue and fire and Kyoutani felt full, a satisfying feeling that made him grip onto Yahaba’s hair even tighter.  _

_ They were getting into a risky territory. Yahaba had slid his hands up Kyoutani’s shirt, pressed flat against his torso, and Kyoutani’s hands were toying with the waistband of Yahaba’s pants. He felt Yahaba’s skin under his fingers burn, and he tugged at the band.  _

Kyoutani blinked awake, skin tingling and panting, his body covered with a light sheen of sweat even with the covers kicked off. 

_ What the fuck? _


	6. Locker Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ohhhh kawa you are whipped for your man
> 
> WHIPPED I SAY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> entities, wassup, welcome back, hello, greetings, hi, yo, ni hao, alphabet mafia
> 
> LGBTQIA+ is now the alphabet mafia
> 
> pansexuals are the kitchenware fuckers
> 
> fight me
> 
> q of the day:  
> vine or tiktok?
> 
> i mean tiktok changed todays world but...
> 
> FRE SHA VOCA DO

Kyoutani started ignoring Yahaba, avoiding him in hallways and not making eye contact with him at practice. He was still mulling over the dream he’d had. Or was it a nightmare? No, definitely not a nightmare. He felt his ears warm whenever he thought of the dream, felt his cheeks redden furiously when he replayed Yahaba’s moan, his flustered face in his mind. More than often, he ended up with a noticeable tent in his pants. He was a teenager, of course, he got hard at a lot of things. 

Yahaba didn’t seem to notice how Kyoutani was trying to distance himself. The setter continued to talk to him, smacking him on the back and chattering away even though Kyoutani didn’t talk back. Kyoutani never realized how much more attractive Yahaba looked when he was happy, his cheeks flushed with excitement and words spewing out his mouth like he’d been holding them in for a long time, waiting to talk to the right person. 

That only made Kyoutani feel even more guilty. He’d let Yahaba open up to him, only to close himself again. 

But the image of Yahaba pressed up against the wall, his hands halfway up Kyoutani’s shirt made Kyoutani look at Yahaba differently. His view was tainted. And Kyoutani felt dirty, felt unclean thinking of Yahaba this way. He didn’t like Yahaba. Of course he didn’t, he’d said it himself. He could never like Yahaba, especially since Yahaba seemed so content talking about things friends talked about. Just friends. 

“And I heard a rumor about Oikawa-san and Iwaizumi-san officially dating!” Yahaba chuckled. “About time, I actually thought they were already together!” Kyoutani grunted, not looking at Yahaba. “Hey?” Yahaba bumped his shoulder against Kyoutani’s, and Kyoutani, instinctively, looked at the brunette. “You seem down, what’s up?” Yahaba tilted his head. 

“Nothin’,” Kyoutani muttered, then turned away to stare at anything but the setter. 

“Liar,” Yahaba snorted. Kyoutani rolled his eyes. “Really, what’s wrong?” Yahaba pressed. Kyoutani sighed. 

“Just some thoughts,” Kyoutani answered. Not a lie, but not the whole truth. Two weeks ago, lying to Yahaba would have been easy. Now Kyoutani found he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“Ah,” was all Yahaba said. The two of them walked in silence on their way to practice. When they got to the entrance of the gym, Yahaba patted him on the back. “Ready to do this?” Yahaba smiled. Kyoutani couldn’t help it. He stared at Yahaba’s mouth, broken into the widest grin, ear-to-ear and not a hint of mockery or falseness. 

“Uh-” Kyoutani cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“C’mon,” Yahaba slipped into the gym, and after a moment of hesitation, Kyoutani followed. They strode to the locker room until Yahaba bumped into Watari, then the two of them started up a conversation immediately. Kyoutani made out the word “girls” and promptly walked to the lockers. 

The rest of the team was already there, Makki and Mattsun exchanging jerseys like they always did and Oikawa and Iwaizumi arguing with each other again. Kunimi was in the corner, listening to Kindaichi ramble on about schoolwork and grades. Kyoutani sighed at the commotion in the locker room and started changing into his jersey, undoing his already-loose tie.   
“Mad Dog-chan!” a voice called to him just as Kyoutani was pulling on his jersey. 

“What?” Kyoutani snapped. 

“We need your help to settle this,” Makki strolled over to him. 

“No,” Kyoutani grunted, yanking on his knee pads. 

“You don’t get a say in this,” Mattsun grinned, and he and Makki hauled Kyoutani to his feet. 

“OI!” Kyoutani snarled, but the two upperclassmen just dragged him over to Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

“Mad Dog-chan, we need your help!” Oikawa pouted at him. 

“The living hell do you want?” Kyoutani broke out of Makki and Mattsun’s grips, scowling at the two of them. 

“Sorry about this, Kyoutani, Shittykawa’s being annoying,” Iwaizumi gave him an apologetic look. Kyoutani huffed. 

“What is it?” he grumbled. Kyoutani braced himself for what was about to happen.

“Who’s cuter?” Oikawa batted his eyes. “Me or Makki?”

“What the actual fuck,” Kyoutani squinted his eyes. 

“C’mon, pick one!” Oikawa whined. 

“Yo, Mad Dog, you’ll pick me, right?” Makki grinned cheekily. 

“Neither of you fuckers are cute,” Kyoutani sneered. 

“Hey!” Oikawa complained, fluffing his hair. “I’m cute!”  
“And I’m cute, too!” Makki protested. 

“No,” Kyoutani and Iwaizumi both said at the same time. 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa shrieked, smacking the vice captain and earning a hair tug. 

“Don’t mind them,” Mattsun tsk-ed. “You’re plenty cute, Takahiro.”

“Boom,” Makki pointed at Oikawa. “I have boyfriend rights.”  
“Iwa-chan, say I’m cute, too!” Oikawa crossed his arms. 

“We’re not boyfriends,” Iwaizumi said, but his cheeks defied him, flushed and bright. 

“Just for two seconds! We can be boyfriends for two seconds, just say I’m cute!” Oikawa wailed. 

“Shut up,” a soft voice said to them. They all turned to see Kunimi holding his water bottle. “Coach is gonna kill you all for being late.”  
“Kuni-chan, you wouldn’t rat us out!” Oikawa beamed. 

“Kindaichi can,” Kunimi shrugged. 

“Wh-what?” Kindaichi sputtered, the attention of the third years now on him. 

“Fine,” Oikawa huffed. “Iwa-chan has to say I’m cute first.”

Now everyone was looking at Iwaizumi, who looked around in exasperation. 

“Really?” Iwaizumi threw up his hands. Makki and Mattsun were snickering, and even Kunimi had a faint smirk on his face. Oikawa stared at the ace with big, shining eyes, clearly waiting for him. “I hate you all,” Iwaizumi sighed, but without the usual fire. “Loserkawa,” he said slowly and with much force, and Oikawa leaned in, smiling wide. “You’re cute.”

Oikawa gasped. Then his cheeks blushed, he giggled, and he scooped Iwaizumi up in a tight hug while Makki and Mattsun wolf-whistled. Iwaizumi choked, his face a brilliant shade of red, and Kyoutani watched with slight interest as the two captains tussled, Iwaizumi trying to get the taller boy off of him. 

“Can we go now?” Kunimi interrupted the commotion. 

“Let’s go!” Oikawa beamed, seemingly much happier than just two minutes ago. He skipped out of the locker room, arms swinging. The rest of them turned to follow, but Iwaizumi stepped in front of them, his face still flushed but his eyes flashing. 

“Not a word,” Iwaizumi hissed. Makki and Mattsun saluted in unison, and Watari and Kindaichi visibly paled three shades. Kunimi and Kyoutani both nodded and as they walked out, Kyoutani saw Yahaba pat Iwaizumi on the shoulder comfortingly. 

They ended up having to do diving receives and suicide runs after their practice, which they all probably deserved. Kunimi glared at them the entire time. However, one look at the ecstatic expression on Oikawa’s face and the exasperated but grinning Iwaizumi made the entire thing worth it, even if they ended up sore and out of breath after the consequence. 

“Iwa-chan called me cute,” Oikawa whispered to himself after collapsing on the gym floor when he couldn’t do the suicide runs any longer. “Iwa-chan called me cute.”

“Iwaizumi calls you stupid and shitty, too,” Mattsun panted to him. 

“But he called me cute,” Oikawa looked at them, eyes shining. 

“Dear God, he’s so in love,” Watari chuckled to Kyoutani, and even Kyoutani had to agree. Oikawa seemed, putting it simply, absolutely starstruck. 


	7. Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ENTITAYYYYYYYSSSSSS
> 
> WHADDUPPP MY BROOOSSS (in the most gender neutral way ofc)
> 
> ANYWAY WELCOME
> 
> I wanna apologize for the lack of updates
> 
> I CANNoT DO A REGULAR UPDATE SCHEDULE IM SORRY
> 
> *youre a piece of shit, author chan*
> 
> -author chan, 2021

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whaddddupppppppppppp
> 
> how yall doing today?
> 
> drink some water
> 
> eat something
> 
> kacHOW those negative thoughts away!
> 
> and instead think about this:
> 
> uhh.... q of the day!
> 
> favorite celebrity?

“Hey, Kyoutani?” Watari asked one day at practice. Kyoutani took a swig from his water bottle and cocked an eyebrow. Watari played with his fingers for a little bit, clearly nervous. Kyoutani waited, but he had a hunch about what Watari was confronting him about. 

Yahaba seemed to have gotten the hint that Kyoutani didn’t want to think about him anymore, so their conversations were more like silences now. 

“Just so y’know…” Watari mumbled. “I’m not accusing you of anything.”

“Spit it out,” Kyoutani sighed, setting the water bottle down. 

“What’s up with you and Yahaba?” Watari blurted, his eyes wide. Kyoutani heaved out another sigh. 

“Nothin’,” Kyoutani shook his head. “Just got busy.”

  
“Oh,” Watari tilted his head. “You’ve just been avoiding him a lot, it seems.”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes, ignoring the uncomfortable twinge in his heart. “We’re fine.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who needs to know that,” Watari looked backward. Yahaba was talking with Oikawa, the older boy’s hand on the younger’s.

“Somethin’ up with him?” Kyoutani asked. 

“Ehhh,” Watari made a so-so noise. “It’s just… he’s not bad like he was last week, but he’s not…”

“Good?” Kyoutani supplied. Watari nodded, looking at his feet. “Why’s he always getting you to come over? Can’t he talk for himself?”

Watari didn’t say anything. Kyoutani sighed a third time and got up. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

Kyoutani really didn’t know why he was going out of his way just to talk to a person he’d always hated. He didn’t know why he’d had that dream. He didn’t know how to feel about Yahaba, but here he was, striding toward the two setters in determination, Watari’s stare on his back. 

“Yo,” Kyoutani grunted, stopping in front of them. 

“Mad Dog-chan!” Oikawa beamed. 

“Not you,” Kyoutani cast a look at the other setter. Ignoring Oikawa’s gasp of indignation, he turned to Yahaba. 

“Yeah?” Yahaba looked perfectly fine. In fact, Kyoutani could even see a hint of eyeliner on his face. Eyeliner… oh. 

“Wanna talk?” Kyoutani asked. 

“Oh,” Yahaba looked back at Oikawa, who stopped his whining for a moment to dip his head briefly. “Okay.”

The two of them walked in silence until they reached the locker rooms again. Sadly, the lockers were already occupied. Kyoutani heard a squeak from beside him as he gaped at Makki and Mattsun, kissing with tongue and fire and exactly how Kyoutani and Yahaba had been kissing in his dream. 

“Oh my GOD!” Yahaba shrieked, his voice higher than Kyoutani had ever heard. 

Makki and Mattsun broke apart with a wet smack to look at their kouhais. Then they looked at each other. 

“Wassup,” Makki nodded. 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WASSUP?” Yahaba shouted. 

“Hey, hey, keep it down,” Mattsun made a chill-out motion with his free hand. His other hand was still up Makki’s jersey. 

Yahaba made a few sputtering sounds, before he let out a groan and covered his face with his hands. Kyoutani seemed to have lost all ability of speech. 

“Didn’t we tell you we were together?” Makki stared, like  _ they  _ were the ones making out. The thought of it sent Kyoutani blushing. 

“Yeah! But… but!” Yahaba stammered. “Big leap from coming out to making out!”

“Eh,” Mattsun shrugged. He finally slipped his hand out of Makki’s shirt and smoothed his own out. “Don’t tell,” he winked playfully at them. 

“Out,” Kyoutani forced. 

“Are you two gonna talk it out, too?” 

Kyoutani ignored the suggestive hint in Makki’s tone, and stood there, silent, until the two third-years strolled out like they had all the time in the world. 

Yahaba whimpered next to him. It may have been a whimper. Kyoutani was busy trying to erase that sight out of his head. 

“So… so did you bring me here to... “ Yahaba didn’t finish the sentence. 

“Huh?” Kyoutani turned to him. Yahaba’s face was red.

“If you brought me here to….” Yahaba waved at the lockers Makki had been pressed up against. “Make it quick, I guess.”

It hit Kyoutani with the full force of a tsunami. He choked, this time. 

“No!” Kyoutani exclaimed. 

“Oh,” Yahaba’s voice may have been disappointed. Kyoutani ignored the implication and sat down on the bench. 

“What’s up with you?” Kyoutani looked up at Yahaba. 

“Nothing,” Yahaba said, way too quickly. 

“Don’t make it harder than it is,” Kyoutani rolled his eyes. 

“Fine,” Yahaba scowled, and Kyoutani felt him relaxing. Annoyed Yahaba was a normal Yahaba. “I can’t get over my fucking crush on you.”

“Figured,” Kyoutani nodded. It was the second time Yahaba said he liked him, and this time, Kyoutani’s heart gave a flutter. He beat it down. “What should we do about it?”

“We?” Yahaba squinted at him. 

“Weren’t we friends, or some shit?” Kyoutani squinted back. 

“Oh,” Yahaba blinked. “Ah.”

“So?” Kyoutani sat back. 

“Uh…” Yahaba’s cheeks dusted with a light pink, and his posture became something shy. “One thing?”  
“Hurry up,” Kyoutani huffed. 

“Can I hug you?”

“What the fuck,” Kyoutani reeled back. 

“Shit,” Yahaba said. 

“You wanna… hug me?” Kyoutani curled a lip. 

“Stupid, right?” Yahaba nodded vigorously, blushing even more now. 

“Yeah, no,” Kyoutani shook his head. Yahaba nodded again. 

“Sorry,” Yahaba muttered. 

“Dunno if I wanna take that apology,” Kyoutani sighed. 

“Do you have a thing against hugs?” Yahaba looked at him. Kyoutani opened his mouth, then closed it. What  _ did  _ he have against hugs?

Kyoutani let his mind wander, let it think about Yahaba’s hugs. Maybe they’d be tight. Maybe they’d be loose. Maybe they’d be just right. Maybe they could be what Kyoutani didn’t have. 

Affection. 

And that alone made Kyoutani start to his feet, staring intently at Yahaba. 

“For experimental purposes only,” Kyoutani grumbled, feeling his own neck burn. Yahaba’s face cracked into a slow smile. “How… how do I-”

Yahaba encircled two of his arms around Kyoutani’s waist and tugged the two of them together. Kyoutani’s thoughts stuttered to a stop. All that was in his brain were a few red warning lights and a warm, pleasant buzzing sensation. He looked at Yahaba’s head, which was pressed against his shoulder. Kyoutani, slowly, moved his arms under Yahaba’s armpits and patted the other on the back awkwardly. 

“This is called a hug,” Yahaba mumbled, his voice so close to Kyoutani’s ear that it reverberated. 

“Oh,” Kyoutani said. 

Kyoutani could feel Yahaba breathing against him, his chest rising and falling at the same time as his own. Yahaba smelled like vanilla. And honey. Kyoutani felt himself leaning closer to Yahaba, trying to figure out what the scent was. 

“Do you like it?” Yahaba murmured. 

Kyoutani thought about this. He thought about the way Yahaba’s hands pressed firm against his back, how Yahaba’s head rested on his shoulder. He thought about the way his own hands were on Yahaba’s shoulder blades, and how Yahaba smelled like something sweet.

“Mm,” Kyoutani hummed. “It’s okay.”

“Uh huh,” Yahaba laughed, rocking their bodies. “Have you ever had hugs?”

“No,” Kyoutani answered automatically into Yahaba’s shoulder. 

“Oh,” Yahaba rubbed his hand against Kyoutani’s back, and an embarrassing noise escaped Kyoutani’s throat. “Did you just purr?” Yahaba snorted. 

“Shut up,” Kyoutani snarled, without the usual fire. He couldn’t erupt, couldn’t get mad with Yahaba holding him so closely. 

“You’re really a Mad Dog,” Yahaba chuckled, smoothing his hands against Kyoutani’s back. 

“Are you fucking petting me?” Kyoutani squinted. 

“Is that okay?” Yahaba stopped his petting for a moment, and Kyoutani, against his will, felt himself yearning for more. 

“Why’d you stop?” Kyoutani blurted. 

Yahaba laughed gently, and continued petting him. Kyoutani felt the tension leave his shoulders and he sighed heavily, sinking into Yahaba. 

“Okay,” Yahaba gave one last pet to Kyoutani and pulled away. 

“It was alright,” Kyoutani lied. It was amazing. It was like a cloud, or something had pulled him in and enveloped him in a world of peace. It was… more than alright. 

Yahaba smiled. 

Kyoutani forced his face into a scowl and huffed. “Your eyeliner is shitty.”

“It is?” Yahaba’s smile faltered, and he looked around for a mirror. 

“Come over so I can fix it,” Kyoutani said quickly. Yahaba stared at him. 

Then his smile came back, and he nodded. Kyoutani needed to see that glimmer in Yahaba’s eye again, that caramel-gold color that showed when sunlight filtered onto it. Maybe he just wanted to feel Yahaba’s face again. Maybe he just wanted to sit close to Yahaba again. 

“Teach me how to hug, and I’ll teach you how to apply eyeliner,” Kyoutani crossed his arms. 

Yahaba snickered, ducked his head, and smoothed his face into something serious. 

“Deal,” Yahaba said solemnly, holding out a hand. Kyoutani shook it firmly. “You’re not that bad at hugging, though.”

“And you’re not that bad with eyeliner, but here we are,” Kyoutani shot back, and he strode out of the locker rooms, leaving Yahaba with an enormous smile on his face. 


	8. Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wtf is wrong with seijoh
> 
> i love it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ENTITIES  
> *bursts through wall*
> 
> HELLO
> 
> GREETINGS
> 
> IM SO HYPER
> 
> BUT MY MATH HW IS NEXT TO me so i gotta tone it down
> 
> q of the day: HOW DO YOU SIT IN A CHAIR?
> 
> me personally i sit sideways and prop my feet on the armrests and lean my back on the other armrest. or i just sit on the floor like the trash i am 
> 
> my mom says its not ladylike but WHO GIVES A SHIT IM UNCOMFORTABLE AND I WANNA GET COMFY

“You think they’re together yet?” Makki asked, drumming his fingers on his boyfriend’s thigh and staring at Yahaba and Kyoutani. Their underclassmen had gotten noticeably closer than just a few months ago, with more shoulder-bumping and playful bickering that had only a hint of authenticity. 

“2,000 yen says they’ll be fucking within two months,” Mattsun said. 

“Deal,” Makki held out his hand. Mattsun shook it firmly, then raised their hands to kiss the back of Makki’s. 

“Issei!” Makki groaned, feeling his cheeks flush against his will. 

“We’re wearing socks!” Mattsun protested. “How come you’re chill with making out in front of anybody but not cuddly stuff?”

“We’re supposed to be the chillest couple ever!” Makki hmph-ed. 

“We are the chillest couple! We were dating before we were even dating!” Mattsun shot. 

“Whatever,” Makki shook his head, then diverted his attention to another potential couple. It was their goal to see who on the Seijoh volleyball team would make great boyfriends. There was usually so much sexual tension in the gym that it was painfully obvious. 

“What about Turnip-kun and Middle-Part, hmm?” Makki mused. Kindaichi and Kunimi had always been close, going to each other’s houses and sharing food and talking in low tones, so it had been hard to pinpoint where their relationship was. 

“Possibly,” Mattsun stroked his chin. “They’d be a chaotic couple.”

“Now,” Makki grinned. “Our captains.”

“I am 60 percent sure they’re already fucking,” Mattsun said, an equally evil smile spreading across his face. 

“Excellent,” Makki nodded. “Blackmail?”

“Ready,” Mattsun said. 

“Ship names?” 

“Done.”

“Hotel?”

“Trivago.”

They fist-bumped each other. “We are gonna be the most powerful people on this team by the end of this,” Mattsun promised. 

“Oh, yeah, considering the information we’ve gathered,” Makki laughed. 

“You gotta work on your evil laugh, Takahiro,” Mattsun pursed his lips. Makki pouted. 

“Mean, Iwa-chan,” Makki mocked, the exact same tone Oikawa used when he whined. 

“Excuse me?” a low voice came from behind them. Makki squeaked and Mattsun jolted, causing them both to whirl around. Iwaizumi squinted at the two of them, a glint in his eyes. 

“Holy hell,” Makki put a hand to his chest. “You scared us.”

“Boo,” a second voice popped up from behind Iwaizumi. Makki reeled back, and Mattsun jumped again. Oikawa raised his eyebrows. 

“Heh. We’re gonna go,” Makki laughed nervously. The two other third-years stared at them, both equally terrifying. 

“Oh, Makki-chan?” Oikawa put a hand on Makki’s shoulder and squeezed tight, causing Makki to wince a little. “Only I can call Iwa-chan ‘Iwa-chan’. Got it?”  
“You’re also the only one who can call him Hajime, so how about that?” Mattsun looped an arm around Makki’s and dragged his boyfriend to safety. Makki flashed Oikawa’s signature peace sign and stuck out his tongue at them as they ran away, giggling. 

“YOU’RE DEAD, MAKKI-CHAN!” Oikawa’s voice yelled after them, causing a few of the other team members to look toward them in confusion.

“YOUR ASS IS DEAD AFTER TONIGHT!” Mattsun called over his shoulder. Makki looked back, bursting into laughter at the sight of Oikawa’s flushed face and Iwaizumi’s gaping one. 

“Issei!” Makki gasp-whisper-shouted as they fled to the other side of the gym. “Another 2,000 yen says Oikawa shows up in a wheelchair tomorrow!”

“Deal!” Mattsun laughed. 

Oikawa watched furiously as the two other third-years stumble-ran to the other side of the gym, heads together and giggling like maniacs. 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whined. “They’re so vile!”

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi tsk-ed, his ears a visible shade of red. The team had turned back to their own activities and practices, and the two of them stepped into the gym. 

“Only I can call you Iwa-chan!” Oikawa pouted, sticking out his bottom lip theatrically. 

“Actually, anyone can call me that,” Iwaizumi said dully. This was clearly a lie, only a ridiculous piece of shit like Oikawa would stoop so low to call him such a childish nickname. 

“IWA-CHAN!” Oikawa protested. “I would fight them!”

“You’d lose,” Iwaizumi snorted. 

“I would not!” Oikawa crossed his arms, a sly smile creeping across his perfect features. “Because you’d protect me!”

“If I had a choice to save one of your fangirls or you, I’d take the fangirl,” Iwaizumi tossed a volleyball to Oikawa, who caught it with an “oof”. 

“You know I don’t care for those fangirls!” Oikawa furrowed his eyebrows, looking much too cute for Iwaizumi to admit. “I just like their food!”

“You’re a terrible person,” Iwaizumi shook his head. 

“You’re dating a terrible person, then,” Oikawa whispered to him. 

“We’re not dating,” Iwaizumi insisted, turning away. He didn’t catch the disappointed look flash across Oikawa’s face. “Get your head in the game.”

“Fine, fine,” Oikawa huffed, then strode onto the court with Iwaizumi close behind. 

Kindaichi watched the whole thing play out, fiddling with his hands. “Why are we on this team again?” he asked, mostly to himself. 

“No idea,” Kunimi sighed. “I hate this place, too.”

“Hey,” Kindaichi turned to face the other boy, who blinked slowly. “You shouldn’t hate the team.”

“Well, I do,” Kunimi shrugged. “It’s too loud.”

“Oh,” Kindaichi said. He was never the best at cheering people up, but then again, Kunimi was always like this. “Why’d you sign up, then?”  
Kunimi shrugged again, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. Kindaichi had learned over the years that it was just something Kunimi did, and it was insanely adorable. Kindaichi could feel his cheeks burning already. 

“Dunno,” Kunimi finally said, gazing past Kindaichi at the chaotic volleyball practice. “Seemed cool.”

“Do you still think it’s cool?” Kindaichi asked. 

Kunimi turned to look at his friend, blinking a couple of times. Kindaichi waited. He got used to waiting after spending so much time near Kunimi, who thought through every equation and only said what he needed to, which was very little and took very long. 

“You’re here, so it’s okay,” Kunimi answered. Kindaichi’s eyes widened, and his cheeks burned even more. 

“Really?” Kindaichi felt himself grinning. 

“Mm,” Kunimi hummed. “We should probably get to work. I don’t want to do suicide runs again.”

“Fair enough,” Kindaichi smiled, his heart feeling a million times lighter. 

“Why’re you grinning like an idiot?” Kunimi asked in a monotone, peering at Kindaichi. 

“No reason,” Kindaichi answered, covering his smile with a hand. 

“Well, don’t cover it,” Kunimi cleared his throat, a rare shade of pink on his pale skin. “It- your smile- it’s… i-it’s not bad.” Then he hurried away. 

Kindaichi gaped after the other boy, his hand falling to his side as his mouth spread into a dopey beam.

Multiple minds in the gymnasium were thinking the same thing:  _ What the hell is wrong with this team? _


	9. Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kyoutani... im so sorry my child
> 
> petition to stop calling him mad dog, i dunno if he may be bothered by it but i sure would be :(((

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *le sigh*
> 
> poor kyoutani....
> 
> welcome back, readers, as we find out what really happens to our little pupper. 
> 
> q of the day:
> 
> would you rather have someone hold you in your darkest times  
> or would you be the one holding someone through their darkest times

It happened two days later. Kyoutani had been trying to ignore Yahaba, stay away from him at all costs, but Yahaba just kept coming back and buzzing around him like a persistent little bee. The shift had been tiny at first, Yahaba’s face falling slightly when Kyoutani told him to go away. Yahaba slowly gave him distance. Their shoulders stopped bumping against each other and their silences lasted even longer. Eventually, Kyoutani’s silence was spent alone. Yahaba drifted away, carried by a gentle but foreboding ocean, farther and farther until he was on the horizon. In sight but never reachable. To be honest, Kyoutani didn't know why he was ignoring Yahaba. They had hugged, for fuck's sake. But there was something twinging at Kyoutani's heart. It told him not to get attached. Getting attached had only ever hurt him, molded him into the snappish monster that he was known as. 

The strangest thing was that Kyoutani didn’t know it would feel this way. He didn’t know that floating alone in an ocean was going to be so cold, so lonely without Yahaba. Kyoutani shrugged off his feelings most of the time, distracting himself by falling down the hole of grades and schoolwork and spikes. This time, no matter how many times he went to practice, or how many hours he spent on homework, his mind always spiraled back to him. Yahaba Shigeru. 

As Yahaba floated away, Kyoutani didn’t bother going after Yahaba. It hurt, yeah, that hole in his chest, but Kyoutani was used to it. It was the same hole that ached after being shunned, outcast like some rebel or a troublemaker. It was the hole that ached when being called “Mad Dog” or teased for being a snappy, snarling human being. No amount of cement or dirt could ever fill that hole. 

It turned out a flower could, though. 

Kyoutani was sitting at his desk when it happened. His fingers drummed on the desk,

and his face was rested into one of his hands. He wasn’t focused on anything, really. How could he focus when all he thought about were those hands that had wrapped around him, those sharp yet soft eyes, that baked-cake smell? 

A shuddering feeling racked through his body, and Kyoutani grimaced.  _ Did I eat something bad? Did I eat enough? Wha- _

Kyoutani coughed into his elbow, the feeling of something surging up within him making him cough harder and…

Kyoutani pulled away, feeling like he had just screamed at the top of his lungs for an hour straight. His lungs burned, and his throat was basically rubbed raw. He gulped in a deep, racking breath, feeling a stuffed sensation in his chest. Then he saw it. 

The petal. 

A little yellow thing, resting on the crook of his elbow. 

Kyoutani stilled, staring at the petal. Was it a petal? Yes, it had to be, when he picked it up gingerly, it had that velvety feeling that every flower held. 

_ What the fuck? _

Kyoutani squinted at the petal, bringing it closer to his face. It was a shocking yellow color, and like hell Kyoutani would know what type it was, but he definitely knew that the petal hadn’t been there before. 

Wait. 

Had he _coughed_ this thing up?  
Kyoutani felt around his neck, wary now. Anyone would be wary if they coughed up a flower petal. He, for sure, had not eaten any flowers today, so he was clueless as to where this petal came from. 

He cleared his throat experimentally, and that swooping sensation came back. He doubled over immediately, wincing, and, on instinct, coughed into his arm once again. The feeling resided, and Kyoutani collapsed back to find an identical petal. He swallowed, picking that petal up as well. 

_What is going on with me?_ _  
_ Kyoutani rarely felt scared, but this was a rare moment. It wasn’t every day he coughed up a flower petal. He cupped the two yellow petals in one hand and clenched his fist around them with difficulty. He was going to be sick, he knew it, he was coughing up yellow petals and his stomach was churning and his throat was burning, he was going to die, it hurt, it ripped at his insides so badly-

And Kyoutani coughed again. But this wasn’t coughing, this was hacking, choking, and Kyoutani grasped at his throat. It felt like buckets of lava were being poured into him, then exploding out of him, and Kyoutani saw the world spin before his eyes as he bent over the table and gagged around a terrible feeling in his mouth. He wanted it to stop, he collapsed onto the ground and held his stomach, the only thing he could do as he coughed himself raw and to tears.

It must have been only a few seconds, but in those seconds, Kyoutani experienced more pain than he had ever been through in his entire life. He lay gasping on the ground, sucking in air and holding his neck. His eyes were swimming with tears, and Kyoutani didn’t let them fall but he was  _ this  _ close to crying. 

“Fuck,” he rasped, the word forced out through his raw throat. It hurt to speak, so he didn’t. He just lay on the ground, his stomach settling after five minutes of torture but the pain in his chest continuously throbbing. 

Then he passed out. 

And when Watari entered their room, he clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a scream. He was surprised that he was able to stop the scream, because in the middle of the room was Kyoutani, sprawled onto his back and surrounded by hundreds of yellow petals. The yellow petals weren’t entirely yellow, though, since a few of them were spattered with droplets of blood. 


	10. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAH I KNEW YALL WERENT EXPECTING DAMN FLOWERS
> 
> DAMN 
> 
> damn...
> 
> *sob*
> 
> damn flowers...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dunno if this counts as angst but here! *shoves at you* NEW CHAPTER
> 
> JUST TO BREAK MY OWN HEART AND MAYBE YOURS TOO
> 
> ITS CONFIRMED
> 
> IM GOING TO HELL FOR WRITING KYOU IN PAIN
> 
> Q of the day:  
> i got homework for all of you: 
> 
> what do yellow tulips mean? *the old version, not the newer meanings*

_ Everything was so dark. It was all ink-black. There was no up, no down, no left and no right. There was no wrong. There was just the darkness, and Kyoutani. Kyoutani blinked a few times. His body felt numb, but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him. He was just… floating in the darkness, curled in the fetal position. It took him a moment to realize that there were tears running down his face.  _

Why am I crying?

_ Kyoutani was confused. He brought a hand to his face and wiped the tears away. But he kept crying, and Kyoutani was only growing more puzzled as the warm liquid flowed into his mouth, across his nose, down his cheeks. Unconsciously, he licked the tears on his lips. They weren’t salty, nor sweet, but a bitter, sticky fluid. He spat it out, watching as the black substance melted into all the other black around him.  _

_ “Kentarou,” a voice whispered around him. Kyoutani blinked, more of the black tears floating away from his face and into the darkness enveloping him. “Kentarou.” _

_ Kyoutani didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He watched closely as the black in front of him (was it front?) morphed and gurgled, then molded into a gelatinous blob. It wriggled and squirmed, and Kyoutani couldn’t look away as the blob slowly shifted into a humanoid form. It grew two vague arms, then two vague legs, the waist thinned, the head was formed, and the features began making themselves as the blob continued schluck-ing around.  _

_ It was fascinating, Kyoutani thought to himself as he stared at the face, which had grown two hollows for eyes and a wispy imitation of hair. The arms grew hands, which grew delicate fingers, and all the while the torso was adjusting and readjusting itself into one that Kyoutani knew. It was a torso that he had hugged, a torso that had been pressed up against his own in a gentle but tight embrace. Colors began painting themselves onto the figure, and Kyoutani had to squint from the contrast of the vibrance and the black around it.  _

_ “Kentarou,” the figure whispered, the mouth finally having been made, showing a glimpse of white teeth and pink lips. Kyoutani still didn’t answer. The figure’s eyes opened, framed by long eyelashes and holding chocolate-brown irises. “Hello,” the figurine Yahaba smiled, eyes soft and his mouth quirked upward in that infuriatingly attractive way.  _

_ “Yahaba,” Kyoutani thought. Apparently, the figure heard this, since the smile widened.  _

_ “Kentarou,” Yahaba chuckled, his voice echoing but still clear. Yahaba was bright- very bright against the dark backdrop surrounding them both. He too was floating, but not curled up like Kyoutani was. No, he seemed to be suspended gracefully, reclined in the ink in a relaxed fashion.  _

_ “What are you doing here?” Kyoutani thought, his eyes flickering across Yahaba’s face.  _

_ “I could ask the same to you,” Yahaba dipped his head.  _

_ “Are we okay?” Kyoutani wondered.  _

_ “Yes,” Yahaba nodded. “Yes, we are.” _

_ “Where are we?”  _

_ “Wherever you want us to be.” _

_ “Okay.” _

_ “Okay?” _

_ “I just…” Kyoutani pondered this. He was not troubled. He was merely puzzled. “Are you solid?” _

_ “Elaborate,” Yahaba laughed, his eyes crinkled at the ends in amusement.  _

_ “I mean-” Kyoutani pursed his lips. He didn’t realize that he was no longer in the fetal position, instead, he was standing almost straight up, hands brushing awkwardly at his sides. “Can I touch you?” _

_ “What kind of touch, Kentarou?” And the way Yahaba purred his way made Kyoutani’s mind go blank. “Kentarou?” _

_ Yahaba took a step toward him, and Kyoutani felt himself lurch forward. “I didn’t mean like that,” Kyoutani bit his lip, concentrating on the thoughts and watching Yahaba’s face for a reaction.  _

_ “Ah,” Yahaba held out his arms slowly. “Should we hug?” _

_ Kyoutani didn’t answer. He took two large strides and practically collapsed onto Yahaba’s chest. He felt Yahaba snort gently, but the arms around his shoulders tightened as he himself looped his hands around Yahaba’s waist. Kyoutani inhaled deeply, then paused.  _

_ Yahaba didn’t smell like anything.  _

_ Kyoutani furrowed his eyebrows and leaned in closer to Yahaba’s hair, burying his nose into Yahaba’s head.  _

_ “Are you kissing me, Kentarou?” Yahaba teased. Kyoutani took another whiff, and the scent was back. It was sweet and normal, and Kyoutani relaxed. Yahaba pulled away gently to look at Kyoutani’s face. Kyoutani didn’t feel embarrassed. He didn’t feel anything except Yahaba. “Would you like a kiss?” Yahaba asked sweetly.  _

_ Kyoutani blinked twice, his eyes flicking down to Yahaba’s lips, which were upturned in a smile. “Yes.” _

_ Yahaba leaned forward and fluttered his eyes closed. Kyoutani didn’t waste a second in inching forward as well, feeling Yahaba’s steady breaths against his mouth. They were two inches apart… one inch… just a centimeter… _

_ Kyoutani got one brush of Yahaba’s lips before he woke up.  _

It was so white. Kyoutani had been dreaming in black, and the sudden starkness almost made him pass out. The first thing he saw was a tiled ceiling, completely white. The next thing he noticed was that his head hurt. It hurt like hell, like an army was stomping their feet in unison inside of his goddamn brain. The third thing he noticed was that it smelled like sanitizer. 

Kyoutani gave himself five seconds to adjust to the whiteness before he sat himself up. Or… he tried to. The moment he tried to move, the army in his mind started screaming, yelling, stomping and banging even louder, and Kyoutani groaned, immediately falling back. 

After the commotion resided to just a simple stomping, Kyoutani cracked open his eyes again and glanced around, as far as his vision would let him see. It was stiff… and neat… and Kyoutani seemed to be under a blanket. Or some messed up version of a blanket, since the cloth over his body certainly wasn’t a blanket. 

_ Am I dead?  _ Kyoutani wondered.  _ I’m dead, aren’t I? Fuck, I never got to hit Yahaba one last time.  _

Kyoutani sulked about this for a while, but then a thought hit him. Would being dead hurt?  _ Well, my head hurts… and I can feel how shitty this blanket is… _

_ Damn, I’m not dead.  _

Kyoutani sulked again. Being dead would have been better than this, whatever this was. A subtle noise across the place made Kyoutani look over, not moving his head. There was a boy, an obnoxiously annoying boy whose face Kyoutani knew because it was a face he always wanted to punch. 

Oikawa Tooru was snoring softly, his head lolled onto another boy’s shoulder. This other boy was also asleep, but his face was pissed off even in slumber. Kyoutani wondered why Iwaizumi even let Oikawa sleep on him in the first place. The two of them were in chairs, half of Oikawa’s lower body draped over Iwaizumi’s lap.

There were more people, people Kyoutani knew but his mind just wouldn’t let him formulate names. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the army was still stomping. 

A pinkish-red-haired boy and a wavy-black-haired one. A ridiculous turnip-looking teenager and a sullen, neat boy. One with a buzz cut, slumped in a chair next to a window.  _ Watari.  _ All of them dozed quietly, but their faces showed hints of worry and their positions showed that they had been there for quite some time. Kyoutani blinked at the boy before he turned his attention to a strange weight on his left side. He craned his neck and caught a glimpse of an anxious face resting on top of crossed arms, framed with mussed-up, silvery-brown hair.  _ Yahaba.  _

Kyoutani stared at Yahaba, resisting the urge to touch the boy’s face. He too was sleeping, but his face was pulled into a frown and an obvious redness around his eyes indicated that tears had been shed. 

Kyoutani wished he could have stopped Yahaba from letting those tears out. Maybe a hug would have helped. He shifted around in the hospital bed (it was a hospital bed… right?) and he tried hard to not wake Yahaba, but it was too late. Yahaba’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned, rubbing his face into his arms. 

Then he looked up and made eye contact with Kyoutani. 

“Kyoutani?” Yahaba whispered, his voice hoarse and unbelieving.

“Yo,” was all Kyoutani could force out. Then he started coughing, and everything from the petals to him collapsing rushed back into his mind. 

“Oh, God,” Yahaba muttered, and winced as he straightened up from his position on the bed to pat Kyoutani on the back unsurely and hesitantly. Kyoutani’s throat still burned, but he forgot how much it had hurt. 

“Water?” he croaked. 

“Right,” Yahaba nodded vigorously, and he walked around Kyoutani’s bed quietly to grab a glass of water that Kyoutani swore hadn’t been there before. “Here,” Yahaba whispered, tipping the glass gently to Kyoutani’s mouth. 

Kyoutani almost felt embarrassed, having to be helped like this, but then he realized that if he tried to even hold the glass, it would probably slip out of his grip. Besides, Yahaba seemed genuinely worried. Kyoutani started drinking, each swallow only slightly easing the fire in his throat. He downed the whole glass with Yahaba’s help, and fell back against the pillows with a sigh. 

“How are you feeling?” Yahaba sat back down in his seat next to Kyoutani’s bed. 

“Shit,” Kyoutani said. He didn’t even want to think about saying full sentences. Yahaba seemed to understand, since he nodded. He brushed a lock of hair out of his face as he examined Kyoutani fretfully. 

“I’m gonna go get the doctor,” Yahaba finally said, and he practically flew out of his seat, exiting the room quickly. He had looked a bit green, and Kyoutani wondered if he was okay. Then again, Kyoutani wasn’t sure if he himself was okay.

Kyoutani looked back up at the white ceiling, Oikawa still snoring rather loudly. He heaved a big sigh, bringing a hand up delicately to his throat to feel around his neck. Rubbing gently made him clear his throat automatically, which only made him go through more agony. Kyoutani put his hand down rather quickly. 

“Kyoutani Kentarou?” a voice snapped him out of it, and he looked at the doorway. A man in a white coat and glasses stood at the door. He adjusted the glasses on his face as he looked down at the clipboard in his hands. Behind him, Kyoutani caught a glimpse of Yahaba’s head. 

“Mm,” Kyoutani grunted. 

“I understand that talking is a bit painful for you currently, so I’ll make my questions yes or no.” The man strode over to the chair Yahaba had been sleeping in, and promptly sat down. Kyoutani squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again wearily. “I am Doctor Tatsuki. Are you feeling alright?”  
Kyoutani nodded slightly. Yahaba slipped into the room and perched into one of the empty chairs across from the bed. 

“Excellent,” the doctor scribbled something down onto the clipboard. “You are in a hospital, Kyoutani-kun. You were brought in two days ago and we had you examined.” The doctor looked over his glasses at Kyoutani. Kyoutani furrowed his eyebrows. “Not only do you have a minor concussion, but we have found something much more severe inside of you.”

Kyoutani raised a brow.  _ No shit. Fucking flower petals.  _

“Kyoutani-kun…” Doctor Tatsuki sighed, taking off his glasses and peering at Kyoutani with just a hint of concern in his eyes. “I take it you have been coughing up flower petals?”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway. 

“Kyoutani-kun,” the doctor said slowly. “We had you checked out when you were brought in, and your friend over there,” he nodded at the sleeping Watari, “claims he found you collapsed in the middle of your dorm room, surrounded by yellow flower petals and traces of blood.”

The doctor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. Kyoutani snarled at the bag, recognizing the horrid yellow petals inside of it. Tatsuki tucked the bag away. 

“You... you have a rare, deadly disease,” he sighed heavily. Kyoutani stilled, and he swallowed hard.  _ Huh?  _ “These flowers are from a yellow tulip, and this is a very uncommon occurrence. It… it’s called Hanahaki disease,” Tatsuki raked his hair back from his forehead, clearly frustrated. Kyoutani knew the doctor wasn’t frustrated at him, though. Tatsuki's eyes were squinted and his focus was not entirely on Kyoutani. “A flower, the flower to which the petals belong to, is growing inside of you.”

“What,” Kyoutani rasped. He refused to believe something so- so absurd.

“I know it’s hard to believe. In fact, we’ve only ever encountered two other people with  Hanahaki,” the doctor stroked his chin worriedly.

“What’s wrong with me?” Kyoutani croaked. He was scared, clearly anyone would be. Would he be hacking up flowers for the rest of his life, stuck in a shitty hospital room for eternity until one day he coughed himself to death? Tatsuki sighed once more. Kyoutani’s eyes flickered over to Yahaba, who was sitting rigidly in the hospital chair. He looked helpless. 

“It is a life-threatening disease,” the doctor said slowly. “Hanahaki is born out of an unrequited love. A hopeless one.”

“I don’t love anyone,” Kyoutani squinted, each word tearing at his throat. 

“You don’t know if you love anyone,” Tatsuki corrected, turning the clipboard over and over in his hands. 

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Yahaba asked from the other side of the room, his voice cracking. The doctor bowed his head. 

“There are two known cures for Hanahaki,” Tatsuki took a deep breath. “Either your love turns into a fulfilled one, one where you are loved back by that person.”

“Ha,” Kyoutani snorted, but he wasn’t laughing on the inside. He was terrified, and his fists had clenched around the hospital blanket. 

“Or you could get surgery,” Tatsuki looked at Kyoutani, and Kyoutani’s entire world spun before his eyes.  _ Surgery. SURGERY.  _

It blared in his head in bright red letters, and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I understand you are tired. I will let you rest for now. We can talk later. And I… I am sorry, Kyoutani-kun,” the doctor rose from his seat and gave one last look at Kyoutani before exiting the room quietly. Kyoutani was left in silence and shock, his eye twitching.

“Kyoutani?” Yahaba’s tiny voice asked him. 

“Damn flowers,” Kyoutani whispered, too quiet for anyone but him to hear. If he had looked up, he would have seen a single tear run down Yahaba’s pale face. 

_ His love? Love? I don’t love anyone,  _ Kyoutani thought bitterly.  _ And even if I did, of course they wouldn’t love me back. Damn Hanahaki. Damn yellow. Dammit.  _ _   
_


	11. Koharu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yall his sister is so badass i would fall for her
> 
> i think its canon that he has a sister, but i just made her name and her appearance and personality up so pls dont attack me-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ENTITIES WHADDUP MY FRIENDS WELCOME BACK
> 
> IM SORRY THAT I HAVENT BEEN POSTING SCHOOL HAS FINALLY CAUGHT ME IN THE LONG RUN AND IM BEING DRAGGED TO HELL
> 
> IM UPLOADING THIS ON MY WAY TO THE UNDERWORLD ILL SEE YALL THERE 
> 
> Q OF THE DAY  
> HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO DIE
> 
> I PERSONALLY REQUEST TO BE STABBED BY A FORK IN THE CHEST

“You think it’s a lie?” Kyoutani mumbled. He had lost feeling in his legs a few hours ago from just lying in the hospital bed for so long. A nurse had come in to check on him twice, but he didn’t care. He stared up at the white, white ceiling with glazed eyes.  _ Hanahaki disease… how lame.  _

“Kyoutani…” Oikawa fiddled with his hands. The entire team had woken up by now,

thanks to Yahaba shaking them awake rather harshly. Kyoutani glanced at the captain, Oikawa’s hair ruffled and matted at the side from leaning on Iwaizumi for too long. Yahaba had told Kyoutani that they weren’t allowed to stay the night, but first thing in the morning, they had rushed in and kept him company. Kyoutani felt a little warmer after that. 

He had tried to ignore the doctor’s words by taking in his surroundings. He was laying in a hospital bed, neat and tight and rather uncomfortable. There was a nightstand-ish thing next to his bed that had a fake bouquet of flowers and a glass of water that was always filled to the brim. Kyoutani wasn’t sure who was refilling it. The chairs the team were sitting in were clearly not there before he’d come into the hospital, and he almost smiled at the vision of the team demanding extra chairs to stay with him. 

Other than the chairs and the bed and the window, the room was empty. Simple, clean, and barren. Kyoutani hated it. He was much too used to the clutter in his home, the mess that usually took up the locker room. He was not accustomed to white. He had grown into teal and lockers and scattered volleyballs. He had grown up around his sister, and he wanted her to be here instead of at some university halfway across the country.

“Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi’s voice made him look at the vice captain. “Would you like to talk?”

Iwaizumi’s face was pulled into one of concern, his eyes calculating and his eyebrows furrowed. Kyoutani mulled this question over in his head. His team definitely already knew about his… sickness, so Kyoutani wasn’t sure what there was to talk about. It was actually quite simple, he thought hysterically, he was going to die unless he got surgery. Die.  _ Death _ . Strangely enough, the thought of death didn’t faze Kyoutani that much. What scared him was the pain before death. 

“Kyoutani?” Yahaba asked. He was hovering next to Kyoutani’s bed, and he was the only boy closest to him. The others were either sitting at the chairs, shifting nervously, or standing up and pacing, like Oikawa was. 

“Hmm?” Kyoutani hummed, looking back up at the ceiling. It was tiled and the light was turned off, as the window had been opened, letting sunlight shine into the blank room, only brightening the white. 

“Are you okay?” Yahaba whispered, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. 

“Head hurts like fuck,” Kyoutani shrugged. “But that’s it.”

“I didn’t mean like that,” Yahaba sat down in the chair the doctor had sat in delicately. “You seem really shaken.”

“You guys seem worse than me, surprisingly,” Kyoutani shot a glance at the team. Kindaichi had decided to leave the room (he had muttered an excuse to use the bathroom) and Oikawa’s normally perfect face was terrified and pale, his eyes big and cheeks blotted. Kyoutani wondered why they were reacting this way. They were only a team, after all. Not… not family. 

“We’re really worried, you know?” Yahaba looked at him, and Kyoutani turned to look back. Yahaba, from far away, must have looked composed, but there was a tightness to his features and a clench to his jaw that made Kyoutani know that he wasn’t okay. 

“Don’t be,” Kyoutani said. “I’ll be fine.”

“You hit your head when falling to the ground, coughed up petals and blood, and you were out for two days,” Yahaba said dully. “You are not fine.”

Kyoutani had nothing to say to that. Was he fine? Was he really, truly fine? Sure, he hurt, but he’d felt hurt before. Hurting on the inside hurt more than on the outside. Was he hurting on the inside? The doctor told him his sickness was born out of a hopeless love, but Kyoutani didn’t love anyone. Sure, he loved his sister (grudgingly) but he got the feeling that Tatsuki hadn’t been talking about that kind of love. Besides, he wasn’t the type to catch feelings easily. It was all so confusing. Some flowers had told him that he wasn’t loved back, when Kyoutani wasn’t even sure he loved someone. Kyoutani felt this gaping hole within him, one that seemed familiar but not at the same time. It was the void that yawned awake at the loss of a game, or a disappointing defeat, or that time he had to muster up the courage to see his sister away to university. Kyoutani felt like that hole was going to swallow all of him up from the inside until he made a decision, either die or get that surgery. Kyoutani had ruled out the other option immediately, the one where the person loved him back.  _ Ha. Who would love you?  _ Kyoutani grimaced bitterly. 

“I need time to figure this out,” Kyoutani finally grunted. He nodded for Yahaba to give him the glass of water, and Yahaba did so silently. 

“Are you sure that you don’t wanna talk about this?” Oikawa asked, running a hand through his already-ruined hair. 

“Yeah,” Kyoutani sighed. 

“You’re not alone, you know?” Watari piped up. His voice was thick, and Kyoutani assumed that more than a few tears had fallen. 

“I know,” Kyoutani lied. 

“Do you wanna be alone?” Yahaba asked quietly, his head low as he took the half-empty glass of water from Kyoutani’s grip with difficulty. Kyoutani had been holding onto the glass so hard that he was shocked that it didn’t break. 

“No,” Kyoutani forced out. He didn’t want to cry. He couldn’t cry. But he felt like he was going to cry if he was left alone. “Don’t leave me.”

Normal Kyoutani would never have sounded so pathetic, so begging. About-to-die-from-flowers Kyoutani didn’t really care about how he looked now. All he cared about was his team being here. And it may have been selfish to keep them here, but Kyoutani  _ needed  _ them. As much as he tried to press down that swelling feeling of joy when they won, when someone patted his back or gave him a high-five, or when they had their moment of victory on the court, he couldn’t shake it. He was left with two feelings within him, that gaping cavern and that urge to be with the people on his team. 

“Okay,” Yahaba said, slightly shocked but grateful. “We won’t leave.”

Oikawa nodded vigorously. The captain looked genuinely terrified, pacing around the room rapidly and occasionally rubbing his hands over his face. Iwaizumi watched Oikawa walk around, his normally hard eyes now softened with sympathy. 

“If I die-” Kyoutani was muffled with a hand over his mouth. 

“Don’t,” Oikawa breathed, his eyes wide and his bottom lip trembling. “Don’t say that. C-Captain’s orders.”

Oikawa took his hand away from Kyoutani’s mouth and stared at him, waiting for Kyoutani to say something. Kyoutani looked around for a moment, taking in the exhausted and broken-apart team that stood before him.  _ Okay.  _

“Alright,” Kyoutani dipped his head. Oikawa let out a fluttering, shaky sigh of relief before turning away and wiping at his face, clearly trying to hide his tears. 

“Oikawa-san?” Yahaba looked at the third-year in concern, then back to Kyoutani. 

“I’m fine,” Oikawa muttered shakily into his arm. “Kyoutani’s fine, everyone’s fine, it’s gonna be fine.”

Kyoutani had never heard Oikawa call him by his real name, only by that irritating nickname. Kyoutani liked it, and for just a moment, he wanted to get up and pat Oikawa on the back. But he couldn’t move, and even if he could, he wasn’t the person to comfort others. 

With one big sigh, Iwaizumi got up from his seat and slowly walked toward the still-shaking Oikawa. He stopped in front of him and raised a hand to cup Oikawa’s face. Almost immediately, Oikawa let out a small sob and launched himself into Iwaizumi’s body, the two of them tilting backward, then evening out in a tight embrace. 

“Please… p-please be okay, Kyou-Kyoutani,” Oikawa hiccupped into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” Kyoutani adjusted himself to look at the two captains. Oikawa’s back was to him, but he knew that he was listening. “I’m gonna be okay. Don’t cry.”

Oikawa’s body quivered for a moment, before it deflated like all the air had gone out of him. He slumped against Iwaizumi, who steered them both to the seats to set Oikawa onto one gently. 

“It’s not fair!” Oikawa clenched his fists, his last tears running down his face. “Fuck Hanahaki.”

“Agreed,” Kyoutani chuckled, then his chest clenched up and he coughed, each exhale sending his head spinning. He heard a few gasps, a few exclamations, and then the brim of a cup was at his mouth and he gulped the water down greedily. 

“Are you okay?” Yahaba asked. 

Kyoutani finished the last of the glass with a big sigh and collapsed against the pillows again. Coughing seemed to take a lot out of him. “Not really, but sure.”

“Do you need the doctor?” Yahaba scooted closer to the bed, watching him closely. 

“Uh… nah,” Kyoutani shook his head. “What I need is to get out of this bed, get to volleyball practice, and see my sister.”

“I can grant one of those wishes, dear brother,” a sly but familiar voice laughed from the doorway, and Kyoutani snapped around so fast that he winced at the pain in his head. 

“Nee-chan?” Kyoutani couldn’t help the little pleading in his voice.  _ She’s at university in Meguro City… she can’t be… _

But Koharu Kyoutani had a tendency to break the very rules of existence, and she popped her head in the room now, her eyes worried but her face broken into a gentle smile. 

“Ken-chan! It’s your favorite older sister!” 

Koharu looked frazzled, her shoulder-length dark hair mussed up and windblown, sunglasses sitting at the top of her head. Her cheeks were flushed and her bottom lip was red, so Kyoutani assumed she had been biting it. However, his older sister still looked every part of a professional student, with her cream-colored button-up blouse tucked into neat black slacks, a nicely-sized weekender dangling from her shoulder. 

“Nee-chan, wh-what?” Kyoutani stammered. Koharu plopped down the bag and rushed over to the hospital bed, her smile sliding off her face as she examined her little brother. 

“Ken-chan, do you feel okay? Have you been eating? Did you drink water? What happened? Do you feel sick? I-”

“Stop!” Kyoutani reeled back in the bed, as if to avoid the spew of questions pouring out of his sister’s mouth. “I swear, I’m fine! My head just hurts! Yeah, I drank water. No, I’m not hungry. I don’t feel sick,” Kyoutani answered, counting the questions in his head. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry for not being here earlier! I only got news when the hospital called me!” Koharu ran a hand over Kyoutani’s buzzed hair, something that she always did as a child and had annoyed Kyotuani, but now it was kinda comforting. 

“I’ll be fine,” Kyoutani lied again.  _ How many times have I said that damned sentence? _

“Are you sure?” Koharu glanced at her brother with large eyes. 

“Yeah,” Kyoutani nodded. 

“Are you tired?” Koharu asked worriedly. 

“Ah, no,” Kyoutani shook his head. “I’m damn awake now.”

“Language,” Koharu breathed, but her reprimand didn’t really hold any meaning to it. She looked around, taking off her sunglasses and folding them up. “Are you his volleyball team?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi answered. Oikawa was curled up in a seat sullenly. “Yeah, we are.”

“Oh, thank you so much for taking care of him,” Koharu bounced up from her crouching position and hurried over to Iwaizumi, kissing him on each cheek. Iwaizumi flushed a considerable amount and mumbled something unintelligible. “Are you the captain?”

“Uh, no,” Iwaizumi stammered. He tilted his head at Oikawa, who looked up at Koharu dully. “He is.”

“Hello,” Koharu held out her hand. “I’m Koharu Kyoutani.”

Oikawa glanced at her hand for a moment before taking a deep breath and heaving himself into a proper sitting position. He slid off of the chair, held up his head, straightened up, and shook Koharu’s hand firmly. Koharu’s smile widened. 

“Thank you for looking after my little brother,” Koharu patted Oikawa on the shoulder. 

“Of course,” Oikawa nodded, only a slight tremor in his words. Kyoutani felt his respect for the captain rise just a little bit.

“Ken-chan, I know you’re done with this shit for today,” Koharu said solemnly. Kyoutani raised an eyebrow at the curse but didn’t say anything. “I’m going to go see the doctor and I’ll come back.”

“Wait!” Kyoutani called, right as Koharu was leaving. “Why are you here? You have class at that fancy institute!”  
Koharu turned, placing her hand on her hip and glaring at him. “No class is ever going to amount to the same as my little brother’s wellbeing. If you don’t remember that, I’m going to beat it into you.”

Kyoutani grinned. “Alright.”

“Good,” Koharu nodded, and she strode out of the room, a woman on a mission. 

“Dude,” Watari looked at Kyoutani. “Your sister’s awesome.”

“Hit on my sister, I hit you,” Kyoutani growled, and Oikawa smiled. It may have been a smile. But it was better than nothing, and Kyoutani sighed heavily, looking at the weekender on the chair and grinning as well. 


	12. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NO NO DONT LOOK AT THE CHAPTER TITLE HE ISNT DEAD STOP DONT SLAM ME PLS IM INNOCENT
> 
> in which kyou gets into a few arguments and thinks delusional thoughts... like death. 
> 
> heh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yO YO YO ENTITIES WELCOME BACK FRIENDS
> 
> IM SORRY FOR NOT UPLOADING ON A SCHEDULE IDEAS JUST COME TO ME RANDOMLY YALL IM REALLY SORRY
> 
> q of the day:  
> best marvel movie? *if you watch marvel*
> 
> cmon. 
> 
> i mean.
> 
> i lOVed thor ragnarok. VALKYRIE I SIMP HARD
> 
> Heyo, entities! I have decided that I need a break. *glares at schoolwork* I'm falling behind in school, and as much as I love you guys, I kinda care about my education too. I will be back next week, see you then and thank you very much for understanding! Just a heads up, I will not be uploading around February 12, since... CNY MY DUDES WOOOOOO! Well, I'll come back next week, around February 13 or 14 for a lovely Valentine's Day! Less than three~
> 
> Author-chan

“Well,” Koharu huffed, smoothing her hands over her blouse as she shifted around in the seat next to Kyoutani’s bed. It had been at least two hours, and the team had finally relaxed. Kindaichi returned from an unusually long bathroom break, pale in the face but extremely relieved when he saw Kyoutani sitting up and gesturing as much as he could at Watari. Then Kindaichi paled again when he whirled around to see Koharu sauntering back into the room. “Hanahaki, huh?” Koharu set her sunglasses on the side table and let out a heaving breath, rubbing her cheeks. 

“It sucks,” Kyoutani grumbled. He had gone through eight coughing fits, two of them so bad that he saw red and when his vision cleared, the team was staring at him in fear, blood on his chin. A nurse came in to clean him up and give him more water. As far as Kyoutani was concerned, the entire hospital was talking about him and had no idea what to do without a surgery.  _ Surgery… _

Koharu was clearly trying to keep it together, but Kyoutani knew better. He could see the crease between her eyes, the smudge of black next to her eyelid where she must have rubbed hard, ruining her mascara and eyeliner. 

“Doctor Tatsuki says that there isn’t a confirmed release date for you,” Koharu sighed. “Instead, they’ll keep you here until you show some symptom of, miraculously, getting better.”

“So basically, I’ll be here for the rest of my fucking life,” Kyoutani said in a monotone. 

Koharu didn’t answer. She pushed the hair away from her face and let out another sigh. 

“I’ll be staying here with you. I packed a bag, and I asked my professors if I could take a one-and-a-half week absence,” Koharu told him. Kyoutani practically flew out of the bed. 

“WHAT?” Kyoutani gripped the sides of the bed. “YOU CAN’T MISS SCHOOL!”

“I don’t care, don’t argue with me!” Koharu squinted at him. “Your health and safety is more important than class!”

“YOU CAN’T STAY FOR THAT LONG!” Kyoutani snarled. “YOU NEED TO GET A GOOD EDUCATION!”

“And you need a good caretaker!” Koharu raised her voice up a notch. “I’ve been gone for so long, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, how the hell you are, and what you could be going through!” Koharu’s chest was heaving, her eyes blazing. “I’m  _ sorry  _ for being so far away. I know that you’re independent and shit but we’re  _ family.  _ And I can’t go to school knowing that my little brother. Could. DIE!” Koharu’s voice broke on the last word and she blinked, her lip trembling. Kyoutani stared at her, his eyebrows furrowed. Koharu slumped back in the chair, burying her face in her hands. 

“Onee-san?” Oikawa walked over to Koharu and bent down, a lock of hair flopping into his face as he patted her back. 

“I’m fine,” Koharu mumbled, muffled by her hands.  _ I’m fine… Shit. That sentence. I hate it. Nobody’s fine here,  _ Kyoutani thought furiously. He struggled to sit up in the bed, Yahaba looking at him cautiously. 

“Nee-chan,” Kyoutani bit his lip. “Nee-chan.”

“Yeah?” Koharu wiped her face with her forearm gently and looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Koharu Kyoutani didn’t cry. But she looked damn close now. 

“I’m sorry,” Kyoutani grumbled. “Sorry for that.”

“It’s alright,” Koharu smiled weakly at him. “We shouldn’t fight.”

“I know,” Kyoutani fidgeted with his hands. 

“You’re my little brother, Ken-chan,” Koharu reached over and patted his head. “I have the right to be concerned. We have… we have no one else.”

“Right,” Kyoutani shuffled around, uncomfortable. This was a dangerous topic, and Koharu must have sensed it since she took a deep inhale, straightened herself up and nodded. 

“Don’t worry about my education, Ken-chan,” his sister assured. “I’m ahead in all my classes anyway.”

“Oh,” Kyoutani looked at her guiltily. 

Koharu snorted. “It’s gonna be okay. We just all need to be strong, and pray for the best,” Koharu looked around at the team. “You got me?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa nodded. “Definitely.”

The team murmured their confirmations and Koharu beamed. “Ken-chan is so lucky to have you guys.”

“Shut up,” Kyoutani mumbled. 

“Awww, Ken-chan!” Oikawa snickered, and Kyoutani bristled at the nickname. Still… Ken-chan was a bit better than Mad Dog-chan. Then Oikawa extended a hand and rubbed his head playfully. 

“I will bite your hand off,” Kyoutani growled. Oikawa took his hand back quite leisurely, smirking superiorly. “So what’s gonna happen to me?”

“Well,” Koharu cleared her throat. “You have a choice to make now.”

“I know,” Kyoutani mumbled. 

“The surgery,” Koharu bit her lip. “Do you want it?” Kyoutani fell back against the scratchy hospital pillows, looking up at the white ceiling. “I know that it’s a hard decision. The doctor said that it’s a really hard decision to make. You have time. Not a lot… but you have time.”

So now there were deadlines. Deadlines for a surgery. Clocks ticking faster and faster, until they stopped. They would stop once Kyoutani died. They ticked endlessly in his head, not really showing an exact time but only reminding him that his time was limited. Everything was limited. 

“The surgery won’t allow me to play volleyball anymore, will it?” Kyoutani breathed out. 

The team stared at Koharu. His sister adjusted herself in her seat. “It’ll mess with your respiratory system and lungs if you overwork yourself,” Koharu pronounced slowly, carefully, but Kyoutani felt the words, rather than heard them. 

“I can’t play volleyball,” Kyoutani confirmed. 

“You…” Koharu bowed her head. “You can’t play volleyball.”

Kyoutani took a deep, shaking breath. Yahaba passed him the glass of water, and Kyoutani drank hastily. 

_ You never liked volleyball,  _ a whisper hissed in his mind.  _ Why do you care? _

_ Why… why do I care?  _ Kyoutani tilted his head. He raised his gaze to look around at the team. Oikawa, glancing at him intensely, pity and worry in his eyes. Iwaizumi, strong and stern, but concerned as well. Kindaichi and Kunimi, shoulder-to-shoulder and the first looking pale and terrified, the latter more composed but still refusing to look at him. Makki and Mattsun, sharing equal expressions of sorrow, strange on their usual silly features. Watari, his roommate, annoying as he usually was, but watching him closely, hands wiping on his pants nervously. And Yahaba. 

Yahaba… who seemed to have good intentions, but Kyoutani pushed him away. So Yahaba pushed back, and their banters increased further and further. But then there was that break, that little moment in time where the two of them stopped their pushing and shoving and replaced it with hugs and eyeliner and somewhat-friendly conversations. Yahaba, who seemed to really  _ care.  _

Kyoutani wondered how it would affect the team if he died. He decided that they would wither away, since they all seemed to care so much.  _ Alright. So… if I don’t wanna cause a whole bunch of misery… I should keep living.  _

_ Easier said than done.  _


	13. Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YALL HAVE BEEN INFLUENCING ME I JUST HAD TO UPDATE TODAY ON MY SELF PROCLAIMED WEEK LONG BREAK
> 
> OKAY
> 
> AFTER THIS I REALLY TRULY SHALL NOT RETURN UNTIL THE 13TH OR THE 14TH
> 
> THATS A PROMISE TO MYSELF AND YOU GUYS
> 
> I CANT BELIEVE THIS I AM BAMBOOZLED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *trudges in slowly*
> 
> yes. its me. and i broke my week long break because i was dying at not uploading. YOUD THINK ID ENJOY THE BREAK WELL SHIT FUCK NO 
> 
> well then
> 
> WElcome back to another chapter my entities and enjoy a little bantering! Cuz... cmon. Teenagers have fun too. even.. ahem.. fictional ones in hospitals

Kyoutani was kept in the hospital for a week, and he didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. His bones practically screamed for him to go out and DO something, play volleyball, go to school,  _ anything.  _ But no. Blood tests were run on him, he was examined in ten different rooms and x-rayed more times than he could hope to count. He stared blankly at the images, a small, black-and-white bush-thing that looped around his lungs and was crawling up his chest and throat. He was sent back to his hospital room. He stared at the ceiling for hours and hours and hours. 

Then he did it again the next day. 

He couldn’t find a single good thing about staying in that damn hospital bed, in the damn hospital room in the whole damn hospital. Kyoutani actually longed for homework. He just wanted to  _ do  _ something. 

He went through several phases at the hospital. It started out with shock, a numbing feeling from his fingers to his toes that caused him to look at things without seeing. Then came the fear, a hammering, pounding clock that seemed like it was going to beat right out of his chest, covered in flower petals and leaves. It went on endlessly, it caused him to bury his face in his pillow and scream until he coughed and coughed. After that, there was a brief moment of anger. No one visited his room for two days after he hurled the glass of water at his sister. Her face of horror and the sound of clinking glass were embedded in his mind forever, no matter how many times he shouted into his pillow. 

Finally, there was acceptance. Kyoutani knew the basics. There wasn’t going to be a cure. He didn’t want surgery. Hell, he would rather DIE than have surgery. It looked like he was going to die anyway, with flowers spewing out of his mouth every few hours. The team visited him regularly, they came with volleyballs and study books and items so they could stay in that room for hours. 

Just yesterday, Kyoutani had been moved to another room. One with 301 on a sign outside of it. And he knew that it was a permanent room because of how the team had already stuck up random posters and things that made it feel like a home. 

Obviously, Kyoutani was never, in his damn life, going to call a hospital room his home. But there was something that made him stop screaming into pillows, something about how the walls were an off-white and how the volleyball posters were stuck on all available surfaces. 

Koharu Kyoutani was a lifesaver, and Kyoutani realized it when she burst into his room everyday with homemade food. He realized it when she brought him schoolwork, so he could have something to do rather than stare at a wall. He realized it when she talked with the doctor and kept up a tired smile around him. 

“Nee-chan,” Kyoutani mumbled around a mouthful of chicken salad, a treat Koharu had made and snuck into the hospital for him. 

“Yeah?” Koharu looked over from her papers and laptop. She told him that she would be staying for a week and a half, and that meant she had three more days with him. And Kyoutani didn’t want her to go, as much as he stubbornly believed in her education. 

“D’ya think I’m gonna get better?” Kyoutani swallowed his mouthful and set his food down on his lap. 

Koharu swiveled in the chair to face him, letting out a long sigh. She tapped her pencil on the table and pursed her lips. “I dunno, Ken-chan.”

“What if I don’t get better?” Kyoutani asked, watching his sister closely. Koharu’s eyebrows furrowed together, and she pointed the pencil at him. 

“What if you do?” Koharu shot back. 

“Unlikely as fuck,” Kyoutani grumbled. 

“Believe in that ten percent, Ken-chan!” Koharu chirped, turning back to her work. “You can’t die now, you’ve just begun your life!”

This was what Kyoutani appreciated most about Koharu, though. How she didn’t treat him like a weak, sick kid. She joked about his illness a lot, and even though it may have been offensive to others, Kyoutani actually enjoyed it. It made him feel like the entire thing was a joke, just a minor inconvenience.  _ That’s all it is,  _ Kyoutani assured himself.  _ I’ll be better soon, for Koharu.  _

Two knocks at the door made them both look over. Makki and Mattsun had come up with the stupidly brilliant idea of using codes to let Kyoutani know who it was, and if they could come in. One knock meant that it was an emergency. Two knocks meant someone was here just to spend some time with Kyoutani. Three knocks meant that the doctor was here. And a loud banging noise always told Kyoutani that it was either Makki or Mattsun, since both of them used their heads to knock the door. They insisted that it was their signature knock, and Kunimi scoffed. 

“Come in!” Koharu called to the door. It swung open to reveal Yahaba, clutching a few miscellaneous items in his arms. “Hi, Yahaba-san!”

“Oh, just Yahaba’s fine,” Yahaba chuckled, a sound that fluttered into Kyoutani’s heart. 

“Oookay, Yahaba-san,” Koharu teased, and she scooped up all her work neatly. “I’ll give you some time together! Don’t fuck around or anything!”

“NEE-CHAN!” Kyoutani roared, and Koharu ducked out of the room, laughing hysterically. 

“Oh, wow,” Yahaba commented. They were wearing matching blushes. 

“Whatcha doin’ here?” Kyoutani grunted, pulling himself out from under the covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Yahaba perched delicately next to him, setting the items he had been holding down.

“I noticed that you don’t wear eyeliner anymore,” Yahaba looked at Kyoutani. “You look weird.”

“Thanks, dipshit,” Kyoutani snarked. “If I look weird, get the fuck out.”

“Nope,” Yahaba settled down on the bed, crossing his legs and facing Kyoutani. “I have to make you stop looking so weird… and blank.”

“I hate you,” Kyoutani said, turning to face Yahaba as well. Yahaba picked up a sleek black object, and Kyoutani recognized it as his eyeliner pen. “Did you steal that, you motherfucker?”

“Technically, I’m borrowing it,” Yahaba pointed out, and he uncapped the pen smoothly. 

“What are you doing?” Kyoutani asked warily. Yahaba scowled at him in exasperation. 

“Doing your eyeliner as payback, so I don’t owe you anything in the future,” Yahaba said, as if it were obvious. 

“Hell to the no,” Kyoutani snorted, crossing his arms. 

“I’ve gotten better!” Yahaba protested, gesturing at his own eyes. Kyoutani squinted and, sure enough, there was a clean, black line around his almond-shaped eyes. Kyoutani sat back and sighed. Yahaba  _ did  _ seem to be getting better at it. 

“What-fucking-ever,” Kyoutani drawled, and rolled his own eyes for good measure. 

“You’re as petty as shit,” Yahaba tsk-ed, but he scooted closer to Kyoutani, brandishing the eyeliner pen. 

“Look who’s talking,” Kyoutani snapped, and looked everywhere but at Yahaba, who was now stabilizing himself by placing a warm hand on Kyoutani’s cheek and sticking his tongue out in concentration, his eyes laser-focused. Yahaba sure took his time, looking from one eye to the other and nodding in satisfaction occasionally. Kyoutani was starting to overheat from the way their chests were two inches apart, Yahaba’s face directly in his. 

“Done!” Yahaba grinned, and pulled away. Kyoutani snatched up his phone and looked at himself in the selfie option. “Told you.” Yahaba’s voice was smug to the point where Kyoutani wanted to punch him between his perfectly done eyes. 

“It’s shit,” Kyoutani lied, and flung down his phone. Yahaba smirked, knowing much better. 

“How are you holdin’ up in this hellhole?” Yahaba rocked back and forth on the bed. Kyoutani groaned. 

“It’s literally the most bored I have ever been in my life,” Kyoutani complained. “I’m exhausted just by living now.”

“Ha,” Yahaba snorted. “Suffer.”

“What happened to caring little Yahaba Shigeru who gave me water?” Kyoutani growled. 

“He died,” Yahaba waved breezily. “Replaced by the little shit you know and love.”

“Fuck you,” Kyoutani flopped a hand over his face and fell back against the bed. 

“Ditto, asshole,” Yahaba flipped him off, and Kyoutani lurched up and glared at the brunette, who smiled sickly-sweetly. Kyoutani responded by punching Yahaba in the shoulder. Yahaba frowned, and elbowed him hard. Kyoutani kicked him in the shin. Yahaba swung a lazy punch at him, and Kyoutani grabbed the other’s wrist before he could make contact. He lunged forward, grabbed Yahaha’s other wrist and, ignoring the setter’s yelp of surprise, shoved him off the bed. Yahaba landed with a thump and scrambled to his feet, sneering at Kyoutani. Kyoutani felt a laugh bubble up inside of him, but he scoffed to mask it up. 

“Someone who can slam me onto a wall would surely be stronger than me already, huh?” Kyoutani mocked, standing up so his calves were touching the side of the bed. 

“You talk too much,” Yahaba shook his head, and pounced on Kyoutani, knocking them both back onto the bed and causing the whole bed to screech backward slightly. Yahaba pulled back a fist and sent it at Kyoutani, who caught it and flipped them both over so that he was now hovering over Yahaba. 

“I win,” Kyoutani grinned, his hands pinning Yahaba’s arms to the bed. Yahaba squirmed, then sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever,” Yahaba mumbled, a smile teasing at his lips. Kyoutani barked a laugh and rolled off of him, both of them now laying on the bed again. 

“Well, I think you’re doing better,” Yahaba snickered. 

And that was true. To his immense surprise, Kyoutani hadn’t coughed once since Yahaba came into his hospital room. 


	14. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this uber long chapter im so proud of it honestly
> 
> YES IM BACK I DECIDED MY BREAK WAS TOO LONG AND I CAME RIGHT ON CNY EVE YO ENTITIES WASSSSSSUPPPP MY FELLOW CHINESE AYYYYEEEE
> 
> IM ALLLLIIIIIIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS YA BOI
> 
> BACK WITH A LONG *for me* CHAPTER WOOOOO
> 
> q of the day:  
> favorite webtoon?
> 
> I personally hold Castle Swimmer, Lore Olympus, and The Four of Them close to my little heart

Kyoutani was starting to suspect things. As he was taken into another room for yet another blood test, his mind whirred furiously.  _ Yahaba… It can’t be.  _

No, Kyoutani refused to believe it. It couldn’t be someone like Yahaba. 

“Three, two, one,” a nurse’s voice said faintly. Kyoutani barely felt the sting as the needle pierced the crook of his arm. 

But his coughing had stopped. It really had. Kyoutani no longer needed a glass of water by his side, he no longer saw the dark bags under his sister’s eyes. He didn’t see the pity in his teammates’ eyes again, just a spark of small hope. 

In fact, he no longer felt like he was going to throw up every time he cleared his throat. And that had to mean something. Kyoutani was an asshole, yeah, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew the way he reacted to Yahaba every time the setter came to visit him and brought their homework. He knew how his ears flared up when Yahaba smiled, or applied his eyeliner for him, even though Kyoutani was perfectly capable of doing it himself. He knew that the sound of Yahaba’s laughter made the foreign hospital room brighten just a little bit. He knew so much more about Yahaba, like how he liked beagles and rock music and the smell of rain. He knew how Yahaba liked walking around on tiptoes sometimes, and he snapped his fingers when he got impatient or didn’t find the right thing to say. He knew how Yahaba held his bangs out of his face with a thumb and stuck his tongue out when he was working. Kyoutani liked- loved- watching Yahaba. It didn’t matter what he was doing, he was just so damn  _ interesting.  _

Yet Kyoutani didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

“All done,” the nurse tugged on his arm gently. A small cotton ball was taped to the place where the needle had punctured. Kyoutani walked back to his room, still deep in thought. 

“Yo,” Koharu greeted, flicking his forehead. Kyoutani batted her hand away and scowled at her. “You’re getting better.”

Kyoutani stared at her. Koharu, in the ten days she had been with him, had changed. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was an adult now. Maybe it was because Kyoutani’s situation had caused her to grow up too fast for her own good. Koharu had cleaned herself up, her hair was silky and smooth again. Her eyes brought on that glitter of life, and her clothes were cleaned and pressed. 

Kyoutani took two large steps and wrapped his sister in a hug, burying his face in her shoulder. 

“Oof, Ken-chan,” Koharu snorted, hugging him back immediately and patting him a few times. Kyoutani breathed in the fresh linen scent of her blouse and the honey-like smell of her hair. “Yeah, yeah, I’m happy too.”

“You’re ruining the moment,” Kyoutani grumbled, and he pulled away. Koharu ran a hand through her hair and held a fist out to him. Kyoutani high-fived it, and smirked at Koharu’s cry of indignation. 

“Anyways, I’ve got to leave today,” Koharu said breezily. The Kyoutanis had a knack for saying things as they were, bluntly, quickly, and without giving a fuck… usually. 

“I know,” Kyoutani sighed, sitting down on his bed, Koharu turning in her chair to face him. 

“You’ll be okay? How’s your schoolwork?” Koharu questioned. 

“It’s good. I don’t have good marks in English, but I’ll manage,” Kyoutani shrugged. 

“Great, great,” Koharu grinned faintly. “How are you feeling?”

“Impatient,” Kyoutani answered truthfully, and Koharu chuckled, shaking her head. “But I’m good. Is the Hanahaki going away?” Kyoutani wanted to hope. He really did, but one look at Koharu’s face told him the answer. 

“Um… no,” Koharu heaved a sigh. “It can’t. It’s getting better. Doctor Tatsuki showed me some x-ray scans, and it seems like the flowers are kinda… retreating? I dunno, I’ve got a major in biotechnology, not some medical stuff.”

“Fair enough,” Kyoutani nodded. 

“Look, Ken-chan-'' Koharu was cut off by a loud bang at the door. The two of them jumped, and Kyoutani cursed. Before he could tell them to come in, Aoba Johsai burst in, led by Makki holding Mattsun’s neck. 

“Did you just bang that guy’s head against the door?” Koharu squinted. 

“Hell yeah!” Makki and Mattsun both laughed. Oikawa shoved past the idiot duo, let out a very un-captainly sob, and in the blink of an eye, he had Kyoutani scooped up in a tight hug. 

“OI!” Kyoutani complained, but Oikawa just clung onto him like an overgrown sloth. 

“Don’t mind him, your sister just sent him your latest blood tests and told us you were getting better,” Iwaizumi grinned apologetically at Kyoutani. Kyoutani tried to shove Oikawa off, but he gave up after a few unsuccessful attempts. 

“The aliens have blessed us with Kyoutani’s survival,” Oikawa whispered loudly. 

“What the actual, living fuck,” Kyoutani snarled. 

“Yo, dude, congrats on living!” Watari cheered, and Kyoutani saw the boy hustle his way past Kindaichi and Kunimi, clutching a pastel cardboard box. Yahaba slipped into the room and smiled at Kyoutani, whose ears burned. 

“Wh-whatever,” Kyoutani muttered, bowing his head. Oikawa finally let go of his shoulders and wiped away a fake tear. 

“Thank the aliens,” Oikawa pressed his hands together and closed his eyes. Kyoutani had never felt such disrespect for his captain more than now. But then again… he was happy, warm in the stomach and he didn’t bother biting back a small smile. 

“Dude!” Makki gasped, pointing at Kyoutani and shaking Mattsun. 

“I can’t believe this!” Mattsun held a hand to his chest. 

“Such a horrid smile!” they exclaimed at the same time. 

“Fuck you all!” Kyoutani roared, and everyone but Kunimi burst into laughter. 

“We come bearing gifts, survivor,” Watari held the box out to him. Kyoutani examined it carefully, and looked at Yahaba, who grinned. 

“It’s not poisonous, it’s not a weapon, it’s not illegal, and you’ll like it,” Yahaba assured. And that was all Kyoutani needed to open the box. 

They were photos. Hundreds and hundreds of photos. Each of them was only about three by five inches, but there were just so many of them. Kyoutani picked one up delicately and examined it. Oikawa was flashing a peace sign and had his back to the camera, while a volleyball was frozen in midair, three inches away from Oikawa’s head. Iwaizumi’s face was partially in the shot. Kyoutani chose another one. Makki and Mattsun had sunglasses on, Watari shoved between them. They were all wearing beaming smiles and Iwaizumi was standing behind them, a dangerous glare on his face. The third picture showed Yahaba and Kyoutani, their backs facing the camera and silhouetted against a brilliant sunset. Kyoutani remembered this picture vaguely. 

“How…?” was all he could muster. 

“540 pictures, courtesy of a very unlikely person,” Oikawa chirped proudly, and everyone turned to look at the two team members who hadn’t been in any of the pictures so far.

“Don’t look at me!” Kindaichi paled, scooting aside to reveal a seemingly bored Kunimi. 

“I thought it was cool,” Kunimi shrugged, trying to brush the attention away from himself. 

“It’s great,” Kyoutani heard himself saying. “Thanks- I guess.” Kyoutani nodded at Kunimi, who hesitated before dipping his head and scurrying behind Kindaichi. 

“Quick, take a picture of Kyoutani’s appreciative face before it disappears!” Makki exclaimed. Kyoutani’s grin slid off and he scowled. 

“Yeah, let’s take a picture! Let’s celebrate our dear teammate not dying and smiling! Two very rare things for a rare occasion!” Oikawa crowed. Kyoutani shoved him off the bed. 

“Let’s do it,” Koharu smirked. Kyoutani glared at her in betrayal. Kunimi shuffled forward, clutching a small camera in his hands. Kyoutani was extremely outnumbered. He sighed. Why the hell not?

“Fine,” Kyoutani groaned, and Makki, Mattsun, and Watari cheered. Everyone scooted onto the bed, the third years with their backs against the pillows, the second years in front of them with Kyoutani in the middle, and Kindaichi and Kunimi at the front. Koharu hopped off of the chair and crouched next to Yahaba, who was on the left of Kyoutani. 

“And you better smile!” Oikawa ordered, earning a shove from Iwaizumi. Yahaba’s shoulder was pressed up against Kyoutani’s, and Kyoutani couldn’t help but lean in slightly. 

“Three… two… one,” Kunimi counted down dully, and a small  _ snap  _ told them that the picture had been taken. The camera whirred, and the film started to appear. 

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!” Makki hollered, and everyone jumped. “We can’t just take one!”

“He’s got a point,” Koharu admitted. 

“This next one’s gotta be hilarious,” Mattsun said. 

“It’s gonna go down in history,” Makki nodded. 

“Legendary,” Koharu and Watari said at the same time. All four of them fist-bumped, and Kyoutani cursed his teammates for influencing his sister into turning to the idiot side. 

“Fine,” Kunimi shrugged. 

“What do you mean, hilarious?” Yahaba swiveled around to look at Makki and Mattsun.

“Surprise us, underclassman,” Mattsun sniffed royally. 

Kyoutani felt a tug at his sleeve, and he looked to his left to see Koharu and Yahaba grinning evilly at him. He squinted at them. Koharu tugged at his ear. Kyoutani yanked himself away. Then Yahaba grabbed his head- his whole fucking head- and dunked him into his lap. 

“WHAT THE FU-” Kyoutani was cut off by another  _ snap.  _ He pulled himself away and stared at Kunimi, who had taken the picture already. 

“Lemme see!” Oikawa complained. 

Kunimi flung the picture at Kyoutani and buried his head into his hands, Kindaichi laughing uncontrollably next to him. Kyoutani gaped at the picture. In the front, Kindaichi had planted a kiss onto Kunimi’s head, and the other first-year’s mouth was slightly open with shock. In the second row, Watari was making a kissy face and raising one eyebrow. Next to him, Kyoutani’s whole face had been buried into Yahaba’s lap, and the second-year setter was pinching his fingers together, his eyes closed and a solemn expression on his face. Koharu had her tongue out, and she was in the middle of flipping her hair. Finally, in the last row, Makki and Mattsun were both flipping the camera off, and for some reason, Mattsun was biting Makki’s neck while Makki stuck his tongue out. Oikawa had grabbed Iwaizumi in some sort of headlock and kissed him on the cheek, while Iwaizumi’s face of horror was almost comical. 

It was chaos, and Kyoutani couldn’t stop smiling at it. The picture was ripped out of his hands and the third-years began laughing and shouting. 

“WHAT THE FUCK, SHITTYKAWA?” Iwaizumi smacked Oikawa in the back of the head extra hard with a pillow and Oikawa just burst into hysterics. 

“Man, Makki, we are  _ wildin’ _ !” Mattsun commented. 

“Freaky,” Makki agreed. Koharu plucked the picture out of Mattsun’s hands and examined it. 

“I need ten copies of this since Ken-chan’s face is literally  _ shoved  _ into your lap,” Koharu laughed to Yahaba, who nodded vigorously. 

“I hate you,” Kyoutani growled at Yahaba, who passed the picture to Watari. 

“Such advanced vocabulary,” Yahaba shot back. 

Kyoutani tried not to think about how his head was literally… right there. Apparently, Yahaba didn’t care, since he just kept talking animatedly with Koharu. 

“You’re the worst, Kindaichi,” Kunimi mumbled to the other. 

“Yeah, yeah, takes one to know one,” Kindaichi grinned cheekily at the blushing wing spiker. 

“542 pictures now, right?” Koharu asked.

“Correct,” Oikawa nodded. 

“When you get out of this damn hospital, Ken-chan, you hang these up in your dorm,” Koharu ordered, tossing the two pictures into the box with the others and shaking it menacingly at Kyoutani. 

“Ugh,” Kyoutani grunted. Watari clapped his hands together excitedly. Slowly, everyone made their way off the bed and onto solid ground. 

“Well, that was fun!” Makki smiled in satisfaction. 

“No,” Kyoutani lied. 

“We brought our schoolwork, we’ll be here for a few hours just to annoy you!” Oikawa exclaimed, and Kyoutani groaned. 

“I call the floor!” Watari piped up. 

“Desk,” Koharu said quickly. 

“Bed,” Yahaba and Oikawa said at the same time. 

“Dammit,” Iwaizumi cursed. 

“Ha! Sit on the dirty hospital floor, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa teased. Iwaizumi’s fingers twitched, most likely ready to grab a pillow and hurl it at Oikawa’s face. 

The team started moving to their assigned places, grabbing books and papers out of school bags and talking quietly. 

“Hey,” Oikawa stopped Kyoutani from approaching the bed. He grabbed his shoulders and peered at his underclassman. 

“Yeah?” Kyoutani raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m glad you’re getting better,” Oikawa said softly, a rare look of truthfulness upon his face. Kyoutani opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

“Whatever,” Kyoutani tsk-ed, and turned away. Oikawa’s lips curled into a smile, and he patted Kyoutani on the back. 

_ At least something was going right in his life.  _

Kyoutani was released from the hospital later that day with results of a perfect blood test and x-ray determining that the flower had, indeed, retreated to shrink into no bigger than his heart. Of course, it was still  _ there,  _ curled up in his ribcage. But instead of a thrashing monster, it was more like… sleeping, almost docile.

The doctor prescribed him with medication pills that he had to take twice a day, once in the morning and once at night. If Kyoutani had been right in the head, he would have scowled at the little bottle, scowled at its contents. However, Kyoutani was on some sort of high after getting out of the hospital with one little warning: to not overexert himself. 

The minute Kyoutani and Koharu walked out of the hospital, Kyoutani breathed like he had never breathed before. It was  _ beautiful.  _ It was blue and green and Kyoutani had never been so goddamn  _ happy  _ about the outdoors. Kyoutani was acting like a child, but he didn’t care. He slid down the railing of the short stone steps to the hospital, closed his eyes and faced the sky. 

“Feels good, huh?” Koharu called to him. Kyoutani smiled. 

“Yeah,” Kyoutani breathed out. “It does.”

They decided to walk back to the school. It wasn’t that far, after all, and Kyoutani needed, needed,  _ needed  _ to be outside under the sun. Koharu was holding his box of photos and a small roll of posters, they had taken them all down from the hospital room walls. She was also hefting the weekender on her shoulder. The two of them strolled past a park, and Kyoutani came to a halt. 

It was just like any other park he had seen, same green grass and towering trees and small playground. Like some miracle, it was empty. Kyoutani turned slowly, to look at his sister. Koharu laughed, her hair swinging into her face. 

“What are you waiting for?” Koharu urged him. Kyoutani needed no further words. He turned, and he fucking  _ bolted  _ onto the grass. He squinted against the wind blowing against his face, but he was smiling, really grinning. And soon, he was laughing. He whooped- honest to God  _ whooped,  _ and he spun around and around and around on the grass, like a windmill or pinwheel of some sort. 

Kyoutani collapsed onto the ground, breathless and staring up at the sky. It was not white, or covered in fake fluorescent lighting. It was big and blue and glorious, and Kyoutani watched a lazy cloud crawl across the blue. It was like someone had used the bucket tool to just  _ drench  _ the world in a cerulean blue. 

“Yeahhhh, soak it in,” Koharu nodded. She approached Kyoutani and held out a hand to him. Kyoutani grabbed it and hauled himself to his feet. “Damn, you’re heavy.”

Kyoutani grabbed the roll of posters from her and whacked her with them. Koharu yelped, then batted him away with her hand. 

“Shall we go now?” Koharu trilled. 

“Yeah,” Kyoutani nodded, taking one more look around him, at the green under the blue. “You leavin’ today?”

“Ah, yeah. Gotta go to the bus today and head back to Meguro,” Koharu said, tucking her hair behind her ear. Kyoutani squinted suspiciously. Koharu’s voice had gotten strangely high, almost… bashful.  _ Oh, hell to the no.  _

“What’s so important in Meguro other than school, hmm?” Kyoutani stared at her. Koharu did a double take at him and furrowed her eyebrows. 

“Nothing!” Koharu insisted, clutching onto the box of photos a bit tighter. 

“Lies,” Kyoutani spat. “You have a boyfriend.”

“Who said anything about a boy?” Koharu tsk-ed. 

“Girlfriend!” Kyoutani tried again. 

“Wrong!” Koharu shook her head.

“Partner!” Kyoutani crowed. 

“Ugh,” Koharu bowed her head, and Kyoutani swore she blushed just a little bit. “Yeah.”

“What are they like?” Kyoutani tilted his head. “And I wanna see them.”

“Uh- no. Well, you’re right about their pronouns, but no,” Koharu tapped him on the nose. “Leave us alone.”

“I wanna see them,” Kyoutani persisted. 

“They’re adorable and perfect and wonderfully lovely. That’s all you need to know,” Koharu giggled, most likely thinking about her partner. 

“Oi, give my sister back and stop giggling,” Kyoutani ordered, and Koharu scowled at him. Kyoutani smirked. “Why didn’t you tell me about them?”

“Eh, I was gonna… at some point. Kinda wanted to surprise you, but Detective Ken-chan beat me to it,” Koharu patted his head. 

“Well…” Kyoutani crossed his arms. “I guess as long as you’re happy…”

“Ken-chan, I am twenty-two. I am happy. I have the greatest lil’ bro in the world. I have the half to my half in Meguro. I’m doing well in school. Stop worrying about me and care about yourself!” Koharu chuckled. 

“Hn,” Kyoutani grunted. He kicked a stray pebble out of his way as the school building came into view. 

“How about this,” Koharu mused. “If they want to, I’ll introduce you to them.”

“What’s their name?” Kyoutani asked. Koharu smiled distantly, holding the box of photos to her chest. 

“Minori. Minori Fukushima,” Koharu said, her usually boisterous voice lowered to a hush. The way she said the name- it was like she was cradling it carefully in her, letting it out occasionally with loving words and hugs. Kyoutani realized that his sister was in  _ love.  _ She really, really was. 

“They sound pretty great,” Kyoutani nodded. 

“Oh, yeah. Minori likes hearing guitar, swimming, and snowboarding. It should be illegal, how God made someone so freaking perfect and adorable and stunning. They’re the greatest,” Koharu gushed. Kyoutani couldn’t even muster up the energy to gross out at how sappy his sister was. 

“How long have you been together?” Kyoutani looked ahead, at how the school was coming up in front of them. It was familiar… yet so foreign. Kyoutani took in a deep breath. He could see a familiar team already waiting for him, and he grinned without knowing. 

“Ehhhh… two years?” Koharu tilted her head. “Yeah, a little more than two years.”

“That’s cool,” Kyoutani said distantly. “They seem cool.”

“They  _ are  _ cool. They’re also photo-shy, so I’ll have to check if they wanna meet you.”

“They don’t  _ have  _ to. I was just curious.”

“What are they studying?”

“Computer science.”

“And that’s all I need to know. They don’t have to see me until they’re ready.”

“Aww, Ken-chan!” Koharu wrapped him in a weird side-hug. “Thanks, bro. I’ll check with them.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, you’ll be good?” Koharu and Kyoutani stopped at the crosswalk. Kyoutani could now see the faces of his teammates, Yahaba smiling and Watari waving wildly at him. Kyoutani took the box of photos from his sister. 

“I’ll be fine,” Kyoutani promised. Koharu handed him the prescription bottle with the pills rattling inside. 

“Call me every day! If you don’t, I’m coming back here to whoop your ass!” Koharu threatened. 

“I’d like to see you try,” Kyoutani sneered. The two of them glared at each other before Kyoutani cracked, and he smirked. Koharu tsk-ed and yanked him into a tight hug, which Kyoutani responded to immediately. 

“Be good, okay? And stay safe. You have my permission to burn any flowers on the campus,” Koharu mumbled into his shoulder. 

“How in the world did you graduate high school?” Kyoutani wondered. 

“Magic,” Koharu answered solemnly, and she pulled away reluctantly. “You promise to be okay?”

“Sure,” Kyoutani nodded. “What are you even doing here?”

“Fuck you,” Koharu sniffed. “Alright. I’m going now.”

“You gonna call a cab?” Kyoutani tilted his head. 

“Yep, but not here,” Koharu looked down the street. 

“Okay,” Kyoutani nodded again. “Okay.”

“Farewell, dear brother,” Koharu held out a fist. 

“Do not weep for me,” Kyoutani bumped it. 

“Weep for a world without me,” Koharu grinned, finishing the phrase. “Later.”

“See ya,” Kyoutani cleared his throat. Koharu sent him one last look and started walking down the street. Kyoutani watched her until she turned the corner and she was gone. Well, not really gone. She was always one call away. 

“Yo, dude!” Watari called from across the street. “Get over here!”

“If I walk over there and I get pulled into a group hug, I will kill you!” Kyoutani yelled back. 

“Point taken,” Watari nodded. “Just c’mere!”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes, but obliged, crossing the street carefully and taking his sweet time. 

“Goddammit, walk any slower and Oikawa’s gonna cry!” Makki shouted. Kyoutani walked even slower. 

Yahaba shook his head, and pushed past Kindaichi to look twice to the left and twice to the right, and then he ran across the crosswalk and tackled Kyoutani in a hug. There were a few ooo’s from the team, but Kyoutani didn’t have the heart to scowl at them. 

“Oof-” Kyoutani grunted, hugging back immediately. 

“Welcome back,” Yahaba whispered, and Kyoutani could hear the grin in his voice. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kyoutani hugged even tighter. He could hear Yahaba’s heartbeat against his chest, could feel a wisp of hair brush against his ear. 

“Aye, group hug!” Mattsun’s voice announced. 

“Shit,” Kyoutani mumbled into Yahaba’s shoulder, but he wouldn’t let go. He braced himself for impact and felt two large thumps behind him, most likely Makki and Mattsun. Then Watari, and Oikawa, and Kindaichi, hesitantly. 

Kunimi and Iwaizumi sat out of it, but Kyoutani could see that Iwaizumi was smiling, an ear-to-ear grin. 

“Good work on living. A plus for you,” Makki praised. 

“Shut up, asshole,” Kyoutani growled. He was still wrapped around Yahaba, and Yahaba only. 

“I bet we look like a mutant alien-thing,” Watari laughed. 

“We should all attack the next car that comes by,” Yahaba snorted into Kyoutani’s shoulder. 

“All right, I’m done here. I’m soaking in your stupidity, it’s disgusting,” Kyoutani detached himself from Yahaba and wormed his way out of the hug, dusting himself off and clutching the posters, medication, and photos tightly. 

The team crossed the road, Oikawa’s arm slung around Kyoutani and flicked the back of his head. Kyoutani didn’t really mind. He didn’t mind anything today. Oikawa traded Kyoutani for Iwaizumi, though, and chattered into the vice-captain’s ear nonstop. Kyoutani snorted when Iwaizumi’s arm nearest to Oikawa wrapped around the captain’s waist loosely and unsurely. 

“Oooh, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa cooed, bumping his head gently against Iwaizumi’s, and Iwaizumi removed his arm furiously, causing Oikawa to be shoved away. Oikawa whined and wrapped both his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, making Iwaizumi have to walk for both of them. “Iwa-chan, do it again!”  
“N-no,” Iwaizumi stuttered, his cheeks red. 

“They’re so sappy,” Makki rolled his eyes. 

“Disgusting,” Mattsun hmm-ed. 

“You two are literally doing the same thing,” Watari said in disbelief. Kyoutani turned around, and it was true. Mattsun’s arm was around Makki’s waist and Makki was playing with Mattsun’s hair absently. They both looked at each other, then at Watari. 

“We have bragging rights,” Makki decided, and Mattsun nodded in agreement. Kyoutani scoffed, but he turned around again. 

“Should we do it, too?” Kindaichi muttered to Kunimi toward the back of the group, and the wing spiker turned a shocking shade of pink in a shocking amount of time. 

“No!” Kunimi protested, but Kindaichi smiled at the blush. 

“Okay,” Kindaichi shrugged. But he felt his mouth part open slightly when Kunimi looped an arm slowly around his and bumped their shoulders together.

“Am I the only single one here?” Watari demanded. 

“I’m single, idiot,” Kyoutani grumbled. 

“No, you’re with Yahaba!” Watari threw his hands into the air. 

“No!” Yahaba and Kyoutani both protested, Kyoutani feeling his neck burn. 

“We’re not, Watari,” Yahaba repeated. Kyoutani nodded in agreement. 

“Suuure,” Watari drawled, but held his hands up in surrender when Kyoutani narrowed his eyes. 

“We’re not together,” Yahaba muttered, more to himself than to anybody. Kyoutani nodded again. “You just happen to be the only other single person on the team other than Watari, and he’s into girls.”

“We all thought we were into girls. At least, I think…” Kyoutani paused. 

“Are you into girls?” Yahaba looked at him, those chocolate-brown eyes twinkling. 

“Eh,” Kyoutani shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. If I find someone, I find someone, I guess.”

Yahaba observed him a bit longer, and Kyoutani pretended to not notice. “Yeah…” Yahaba murmured. “I guess.”


	15. Not-Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey. welcome back entities. im a little out of it, sorry for this short chapter after the long one. I'm going back to short chapters, apologies for the inconvience!
> 
> in which there is a not-date arranged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo. i know my upload times are getting further and further apart, and im so sorry for all of you who read regularly. i dont think i can get on a schedule, though, but i'll try to figure something out
> 
> q of the day:  
> google meet or zoom?
> 
> or anything else you use

Kyoutani was a bit surprised to see that no one had really noticed his absence. Sure, his teachers welcomed him back and asked him if he was alright, but none of his peers seemed to even know he was gone. Well, he shouldn’t have been surprised, really. He found that he was getting much more attention from a certain group of volleyball dorks than usual. 

After sticking up all 542 photos with Watari’s help, he also hung up the volleyball posters.  “Daaaaamn,” Watari whistled. “Our place looks epic.”

“If you call it some shit like the man cave-” Kyoutani was interrupted. 

“Man cave. Hell yeah, man cave,” Watari placed a hand on the wall lovingly, and Kyoutani gagged inwardly. 

Kyoutani was still allowed to play volleyball, to his enormous relief, but his time on the court had certainly lessened significantly. And Yahaba always seemed to have two water bottles on him. They weren’t babying him, but they were definitely more cautious. Multiple times, they asked if he was okay after a spike, and Makki and Mattsun didn’t crack as many jokes around him as they used to. Oikawa had honest-to-God  _ shrieked  _ when Kyoutani coughed after choking on his food in the cafeteria. 

It was a bit much, but Kyoutani refused to admit that he kind of liked it. He felt guilty most of the time, making them all hover around him like an overprotective swarm of bees, but it was so, so, so much better than them acting like he was a bomb about to go off at any moment. 

“Kyoutani!” Yahaba’s voice shouted, and Kyoutani honed in on the ball. It was a wonderful set, the ball soaring directly into the air neatly. Kyoutani ran and jumped, pulling one hand back and squinting at the ball, his other arm stretched before him. Mattsun and Kindaichi had already leapt up, their hands splayed out in front of them. Kyoutani targeted one spot just outside of Mattsun’s reach, and he slammed his hand forward to pound the ball into the other side of the court. 

“YOUCH!” Mattsun cried. “I didn’t even touch the ball, and it HURT!”

“Dumbass,” Kyoutani tsk-ed, and he high-fived Yahaba. 

And that was another thing. Yahaba. Kyoutani figured it had started while he was in the hospital, but there was something different about Yahaba. He seemed so much… softer around Kyoutani. And Kyoutani didn’t have a problem with it, but there were times when Yahaba would look him straight in the eyes, firm yet gentle, and Kyoutani felt a prickle run down his spine. If Yahaba had been a triangle before the incident, all angles and sharp edges, then he was sort of like a circle now, moldable but still withstanding. 

But Yahaba wasn’t supposed to be like this, and Kyoutani wasn’t very used to it yet. He wasn’t used to their shoulders bumping when they walked together, he wasn’t used to Yahaba coming over to his dorm just to talk and laugh, and he certainly wasn’t used to the heat feeling that roared in his ears when Yahaba smiled. It wasn’t like he didn’t like it. In fact, Kyoutani found himself looking forward to Yahaba’s visits. Except that there was one little problem, and that was that Kyoutani couldn’t like Yahaba. He just couldn’t, not after putting his confession down a month ago. And the frustrating thing was that he didn’t know  _ what  _ he was feeling, what this burning sensation was. 

“Hey, Kyoutani?” Yahaba asked, the two of them sitting comfortably on his bed, doing their homework. 

“Mm?” Kyoutani hummed, tapping his pencil against his chin. He heard a rustling of sheets, and looked up to see Yahaba shifting around, an unreadable expression on his face. Kyoutani furrowed his eyebrows and put down the pencil. “Spit it out.”

Yahaba stopped looking unsure and scowled at him, and Kyoutani relaxed at the pissed-off face Yahaba was making. “Well, if you say it like that, no.”

“Hurry up,” Kyoutani growled, and Yahaba sniffed rather royally. 

“I don’t think I will.”

Kyoutani let out a huff and sat up straight on the bed, glaring at Yahaba. Yahaba glared back. 

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know?” Kyoutani sighed, truly curious as to what Yahaba wanted to ask him. 

“Takes one to know one,” Yahaba fired back, and Kyoutani felt his eye twitch. Yahaba Shigeru, master of making Kyoutani  _ mad.  _

There was a long silence, the two of them just staring at each other with fire in their eyes and venom on their tongues. Then Yahaba gave another royal sniff and swiveled on the bed to face away from Kyoutani. 

And Kyoutani snapped. 

He let out a low growl that surprised even himself and lunged at Yahaba from behind, grabbing his shoulders and spinning to setter around to face him. Yahaba, being Yahaba, shoved Kyoutani away and sneered. 

“I hate you,” Kyoutani spat. “Tell me. Now.”

“Fuck you, and no,” Yahaba grinned wickedly. Kyoutani grabbed Yahaba's collar and used his other hand to pull at Yahaba’s hair, making the setter have to look up at him. In the back of his mind, he wanted to pet Yahaba’s hair, since  _ why the fuck was it so soft,  _ but he just curled his lip at the other. 

“Spit it the fuck out, or I’ll make you,” Kyoutani ordered, tightening his grip on Yahaba’s hair. Yahaba gave a slight squeak at the action, but continued to fume silently. Kyoutani could feel their breaths, shallow and quick, against each other, they were so close, close enough so that Kyoutani could see flecks of gold against Yahaba’s irises, so close that Yahaba’s balled-up fists were pushed against his chest. 

“I. Am. Not. Taking you. On a date. Like this,” Yahaba forced out between gritted teeth. Kyoutani froze, and blinked. Yahaba took the chance to wrestle away from Kyoutani’s hold, dusting himself off rather dramatically. 

“Huh?” Kyoutani asked stupidly. Yahaba rolled his eyes, but there was a dark blush on his cheeks. 

“Wanna go get coffee?” Yahaba asked, not looking at Kyoutani. Kyoutani swallowed.  _ What the hell am I supposed to do? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-  _

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Yahaba muttered, running his hand through his silky bangs. “I shouldn’t have asked-”

“Okay,” Kyoutani blurted out, and Yahaba stopped his mumbling for a moment. Kyoutani cleared his throat, wishing there was an ice pack or some shit to cool himself down. “Uh… yeah. Whatever.”

“Really?” Yahaba’s voice was small. 

“Uh huh. Don’t make me regret it. This better be some coffee,” Kyoutani huffed. Yahaba’s back trembled, and Kyoutani felt an ice-cold spear stab down his spine. “Uh- Yahaba?”

Yahaba turned around, and Kyoutani braced himself for the waterworks. He was met with Yahaba’s eyes squeezed shut and his arms wrapped around his stomach. Oh. Yahaba was laughing. 

“What?” Kyoutani demanded, as Yahaba gasped for breath. “What is it?”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t like me?” Yahaba teased, poking at his chest. Kyoutani scowled. 

“I don’t. This is purely out of pity,” Kyoutani insisted, and Yahaba burst into laughter again. Kyoutani felt a smirk tug at his mouth, but he crossed his arms. “So…” Kyoutani tugged on the hem of his shirt. “A date?”

“Nah, we don’t have to call it that,” Yahaba chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. Kyoutani saw the room spin slightly and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “But friends go out with each other, right? So we can go grab something.”

“Oh,” Kyoutani mumbled. “Okay.” He should have been relieved. “Sounds like a date, though.”

“Dates are for people in relationships,” Yahaba stuck his tongue out. “We’re not in a relationship, so…”

_ We’re not in a relationship. We’re NOT in a relationship. WE’RE not in a relationship.  _

Kyoutani shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. “Right,” he forced out. “Like, now? Or what?” He didn't like this swooping sensation in his gut, like the kind he felt after riding a roller coaster or before an important game.

“Maybe tomorrow? Bring your homework, I know this awesome place,” Yahaba clapped his hands together, and that was  _ cute,  _ the way his eyes were twinkling and the little determined look on his face. 

“Alright,” Kyoutani muttered. Yahaba beamed, most likely fantasizing this “awesome place” already. Kyoutani turned away and bent over again to copy more notes down, hoping that distracting himself with work would cover up this strange hole inside of him. 

_ We’re not in a relationship.  _


	16. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i live for watari's maid outfit and kyoutani's sister
> 
> the whites of my eyes turned pink, is that normal or what

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ENTITIES I HAVE A MESSAGE
> 
> i have decided that i really can't promise you a scheduled date or routine for when i upload. it just comes naturally, and i'm real sorry for those of you who support me and check in only to be disappointed. it's been... a week since i last uploaded? i'm sorry, entities. 
> 
> Shoutout to:  
> Meower06 *for being a crazy and supportive bitch all the time*  
> WriterNArtist *FOR BEING ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE TO HAVE EVER CAME THROUGH ON MY OTHER STORY LIFE IN BLOOM AND BASICALLY BEING THERE FOR ME ALL THIS WHILE  
> sakura_mochi *for being a bomb ass queen and collab-ing with me on other stories and commenting regularly*
> 
> thanks, you guys.

It had been two days. Two whole-ass days and Kyoutani finally realized what “nervous” was. What did people wear on dates? Dressy? Casual? Kyoutani couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop sweating about it, and could-most definitely not- tell anyone about his internal struggle. Yahaba had texted him a few hours ago. 

9:23 A.M

Yahaba:

If you’re not ready to go after school istg i will whoop your ass into next week

Kyoutani had blinked, his face curling into a scowl as his fingers flew over the screen. 

Me:

id like to see you fckin try dipshit

Yahaba:

Not kidding tho you better be ready

Me:

not a date remember why should i give a shit

Yahaba:

I knew it you’re either a coward or putting the tsundere face on and even if it’s the tsundere face ur doin a shitty ass job at it

Kyoutani was gripping his phone so tightly that his knuckles turned white and he thought he was going to split the whole damn thing in half. 

Me:

why tf are you forcing me to go out with you

Yahaba: 

To make sure that you dont die when you see the shit ton of flowers at the place im taking you to

_Flowers. Damn Yahaba. Damn him to flaming hell._ Kyoutani wanted to chuck his phone across the room. Or chuck Yahaba’s face at the wall. It was strange, how he’d gone from hating Yahaba to making a truce to having a… wet dream about him to their unspoken moment of peace while in the hospital, and now to their usual bickering. Yahaba made him mad. MAD mad. And Kyoutani wanted to shut the setter up. 

Me: 

that shit ton of flowers gonna be halfway up your ass if you think about bossing me around again

Yahaba:

Anyone ever tell you everything about you is shit? Like your punchable face and your bitch attitude and your lameass tough front

Me:

yes

Yahaba didn’t answer for a long time after that. Kyoutani looked at his “yes” and wondered where it came from as he stared absently at the screen. Punchable face. Bitch attitude. Lameass tough front. Things he’d heard before, just in different words and different mouths. All the same to him, since it boiled down quite simply: he was a bitch and showed it way too often. 

Yahaba didn’t seem to be texting him back, so Kyoutani set down his phone with a heaving sigh. Flowers, huh? 

Kyoutani didn’t mind flowers. He just didn’t want them spewing out of his goddamn mouth like unchecked words. And speaking of flowers, none of that shit had happened in a whole week. A week since he had been taken out of the hospital. A week since Yahaba’s “nice” front had torn down. Honestly, Kyoutani was relieved. Seeing Yahaba scowl and punch him was much better than having to put up with his weird smiles, even if they brought him so much joy. 

Now, Kyoutani had turned to a last resort after kicking Watari out of their shared dorm, to the latter’s amusement. And whatever his sister had to tell him couldn’t be worse than Watari’s knowing smirks and wiggling eyebrows. 

“Hey… sorry to ask you about such a…” Kyoutani swallowed. This was much harder than he’d expected. 

“Spit it out,” Koharu ordered. 

“It’s weird to say stuff like this,” Kyoutani mumbled. “How are you doing?”

“Mmm, fine. You know, university life and all that jazz. How are you doing?”

“Stressed.”

“Been there, still doing that. How can your fabulous sibling be of assistance?” 

He would just get it over with. Easy. This was his sister, he could trust her with his life. Kyoutani took a few deep breaths, truly unsure about Koharu's reaction. He spit it out quickly.

“Nee-chan, what do you wear on a date?” Kyoutani ran a hand through his hair, his other hand holding his phone to his ear. A loud shriek from the phone made Kyoutani jump back and fumble with the device. “What the hell?” Kyoutani shouted. 

“You’re going on a _date?!”_ Koharu squealed. Kyoutani blushed. He couldn’t help it. He blushed. 

“ _No,”_ Kyoutani emphasized, rubbing his face with one hand. “It’s just going out… to a place… with a friend.”

“Date,” Koharu declared, and Kyoutani could hear the smirk in her tone. “Date, definitely.”

“Shut up. It’s not a date. It’s… an outing,” Kyoutani spat. Koharu laughed, hard, and Kyoutani felt himself blushing again. 

“Is it with Yahaba-kun?” Koharu wheezed. Kyoutani curled his hand into a fist. 

“So what if it is?” Kyoutani shot. 

“Then it’s a date. Oh my God, you’re so screwed,” Koharu cackled, and Kyoutani regretted ever trusting his sister. 

“Stop!” Kyoutani sputtered. “I come to ask you for one thing and this is how you treat me?”

“No shit, Sherlock, siblings are for shin-kicking and torment,” Koharu said, and Kyoutani heard the smirk again. Her tone turned serious after her dramatic bout of giggles. “Alright, video call me. I’ll see what I can work with.”

 _Says the woman who wears skirts and jeans... together._ But Kyoutani called her anyway. 

“Hel _lo_ ,” Koharu clapped her hands together, looking rather put together in a casual flannel and her hair in a bandanna. In fact… she looked _too_ dressed up. Kyoutani immediately squinted at her. 

“Why are you so fancy?” he curled his lip. Koharu scoffed and placed a hand on her chest. And that hand was wearing bracelets, ones that jingled together. Kyoutani’s suspicion kicked in and he leaned closer to the phone. “And why are you wearing bracelets?”

“I have a date, just like you, dear brother,” Koharu flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Except that, out of the two of us, I am clearly better-dressed currently.”

“Not a date,” Kyoutani mumbled. 

“You’re blushing. You’re looking down. You look like how I did when I first saw Minori. Love at first… well, they didn’t see me, but that’s beside the point.”

“Uh huh,” Kyoutani raised an eyebrow, and Koharu flushed this time, out of rage. 

“Show me your closet!” Koharu demanded, and Kyoutani felt himself moving toward the closet. Damn his sister and her mind-controlling, powerful ways. He heard his sister making small “hmm’s” and “uh-huh’s” as he moved his phone through the dark and shared closet. “Who owns that wonderful maid outfit, now?”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Kyoutani roared, lurching his phone back to stare at the horrifying garment, his sister’s hysterical laughing bursting out of the phone. “IT’S NOT ME!”

“I-I fu-fucking love y-your room-roommate,” Koharu hiccupped, clutching her stomach. Kyoutani fanned at his face aggressively. _Goddammit Watari. Wait- what the fuck, Watari?_

“Ignore the maid shit, give me an outfit,” Kyoutani commanded. 

“Put me back in,” Koharu ordered, and Kyoutani complied. It took a long-ass while for his sister to put together his clothes, but in the end, she finally said, “Alright,” and Kyoutani pulled the phone to his face. “What’s the weather?”

“It’s kinda chilly,” Kyoutan informed her. 

“Excellent,” Koharu cleared her throat and clasped her hands together. “You’re gonna hate this, but Yahaba-kun sure won’t.”

“Huh?”

“Grab a T-shirt. Plain, band, I don’t care, he won’t see it. Toss that shirt jacket over it, the one in the back of the closet. And wear a pair of jeans under it, preferably navy, but they can’t be ripped. I hope you have those combat boots I bought you for Christmas, because they’re comin’ in handy now.”

As Koharu rattled off her list, Kyoutani fumbled through his closet and grabbed the articles of clothing that she had instructed him to have, taking a moment to decide between an AC/DC shirt and a regular black one. He chose the AC/DC shirt. In the end, he had a bundle of clothes in his arms and he peeked over it to look at his sister. 

“Go change, idiot!” Koharu shoo-ed him away, and he grumbled all the way into the bathroom. 

When he was done changing, he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked… not like himself. But maybe it wasn’t bad, the way he seemed all dressed up. Was Yahaba into dressed-up people? He seemed to like Kyoutani’s rough nature, so should he have-

_Why the fuck do you care about what he thinks of you?_

Kyoutani shook his head, scowled at himself in the mirror, and burst out of the bathroom to skid in front of his sister, who was adjusting her bandanna in front of a mirror. Koharu looked him up and down, and Kyoutani fidgeted under her scrutiny. 

“Do you have piercings?” Koharu asked. 

“Huh?” Kyoutani squinted. 

“Piercings,” Koharu repeated slowly, like he was dumb. “Helix, industrial, lobes, nothing?” Kyoutani shook his head, speechless. Koharu sat back in her chair, her mouth wide open. “What is this blasphemy?”

“How the fuck do you not know if I have piercings or not?” Kyoutani demanded. 

“Hey!” Koharu threw up her hands. “You’re sixteen, I can’t control you, and if you wanted a piercing, I wouldn’t have stopped you!”

“No!” Kyoutani scoffed. “No piercings!” _Yet, at least._

“Ah, that’s too bad,” Koharu huffed. “Eyeliner, at least? Or have my years of training done nothing?”

“Asshole,” Kyoutani spat. “Of course I can do my eyeliner.”

And Kyoutani did his eyeliner. In fact, he made the wing _just_ a little sharper, a little longer than what he would usually do. He made eye contact with his sister and flipped her off lazily. Koharu returned the favor. 

“Can I go on my date now?” Koharu whined, spinning in her chair. 

“Sure,” Kyoutani shrugged, and Koharu’s eyes took on a childlike glitter. “Thanks... I guess. Have fun.”

“No problem! And you too, Ken-chan!” Koharu purred, and ended the call before Kyoutani could curse her one last time. Kyoutani flung the phone onto his bed and let out a groan as he stared at the wall. _Date. Is it gonna be a date? Fuck, why is Yahaba so hard to read?_

Kyoutani rubbed his hands over his face. Correction- he _almost_ rubbed his hands over his face, before he remembered that he was wearing eyeliner and unless he wanted to look like some shitty raccoon, he couldn’t touch his eyes. He let out another long groan before he heaved himself off the bed and stalked to the bathroom, scowling at his reflection. It was still him, with the buzz cut and dark eyes and downward-curving mouth. But at the same time, it wasn’t him. Normal him wouldn’t have worn jeans, and he certainly wouldn’t have worn a shirt jacket, even if it was dark grey. 

Fuck it, Kyoutani was sixteen, this was most certainly not a date, and he didn’t really give two shits. Which was why he flung off the shirt jacket and yanked a black bomber jacket on, leaving it unzipped. Koharu could go whine about his appearance later. After checking himself in the mirror one last time, Kyoutani took a deep breath, wondered if he should have gotten piercings, and exited the dorm room.

He made his way downstairs, trotting down the steps, his palms sweating inside his jacket pockets. Kyoutani turned the corner and ran into someone immediately. 

“Watch it!” Yahaba scolded. Kyoutani rubbed his head, wincing, and looked up at the setter, about to sneer at him. 

Kyoutani didn’t get the chance to make a condescending remark or face because of two reasons. One, Yahaba looked good. Like, _good_ good. No single person in the world should have been allowed to look that good in just a collared button-down shirt and skinny jeans, but here Yahaba fucking Shigeru was, pulling the look off and finishing it with a sweatshirt slung over his shoulder in his grip. Yahaba ran a hand through his brown locks and his expression softened slightly as he helped Kyoutani to his feet. “Did you get a concussion? Please tell me you got a concussion.”

Kyoutani didn’t answer because of the second reason. There was a girl. A girl half a head shorter than Yahaba and observing him curiously, looking equally as dressed up as Yahaba in a flowy-shirt thing, legging, and a tan infinity scarf. Not only that, she was standing much too close to the setter than Kyoutani would have liked, embarrassingly enough. Kyoutani blinked at the girl, who squared her shoulders and blinked right back. 

“Ah, Kyoutani,” Yahaba cleared his throat, and Kyoutani looked at him. Yahaba’s cheeks were flushed pink, and he played with the hem of button-down, almost shyly. “This is Otsuka-san. She’s… a friend. Otsuka-san, this is Kyoutani-san.”

Kyoutani wasn't good with people. He wasn't good with emotions, or others' feelings, or any of that bullshit. What he _did_ know was that Yahaba was blushing, an attractive shade of pink that strangely complimented his features, and Yahaba wasn't blushing because of him. It was because of the girl. And Kyoutani felt the dying flower inside his chest twitch slightly. _No, no, no, no, no, no, no._

“Nice to meet you,” Otsuka bowed her head. Kyoutani dipped his head and mumbled a greeting, trying not to clear his throat. 

“Right… Kyoutani, um-” Yahaba chewed his bottom lip. Kyoutani’s blood froze, and he stared at Yahaba, who wouldn’t look back. Yahaba fidgeted in place, Otsuka looking from one boy to another in mild concern. Kyoutani raised an eyebrow. He knew that stance, that flighty, I-need-a-favor look, and he knew what Yahaba wanted. He just wanted to hear the setter say it himself. Seconds ticked by, the awkwardness fueled on by Otsuka watching them closely. Yahaba cleared his throat and let out a deep, slightly trembling breath. “Is it good with you if Otsuka-san comes with us? Maybe?”

Kyoutani didn’t want her to come, selfishly. He wanted to bicker with Yahaba and push him around and have Yahaba push back. He wanted Yahaba to tease him about flowers and bossiness and his remarks. He wanted the two of them to go to this special place, since in this situation, three was definitely a crowd. He wanted to go on this not-date with Yahaba and have not-fun with Yahaba and not-relax around Yahaba. He didn’t want this Otsuka-san to be there, no matter how polite or headstrong she seemed. 

“Yeah, it’s cool,” he heard himself saying. Kyoutani tasted flowers. 


	17. Soon-To-Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *shoves at you*
> 
> hAVE THIS AND ACCEPT THE UPDATE THAT CAME AFTER YESTERDAYS CUZ THIS IS A RECORD
> 
> ngl that one long chapter is just mocking me at this point all my current chapters are so smol in comparison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AGAIN
> 
> not me uploading from my fetal position on the bed because DAMMIT CRAMPS *sob*
> 
> so if there are typos its cuz of the pain i am currently in
> 
> WHADDUP ENTITIES DESPITE THIS HORRIBLE AGONY I AM FEELING SLIGHTLY BETTER
> 
> shoutout to swamp_potato, for being a bomb ass queen just like all the previous royalties i shout-outed *in the most gender neutral way possible* thank you for encouraging me and commenting all the damn time with your damn supportive comments and damn love for me *holds gently even tho i am definitely smaller than you*

_ Third wheeling sucks ass,  _ Kyoutani thought as he stalked beside the two of them. Yahaba was laughing, giggling almost, around Otsuka, who grinned and bumped shoulders with him. Kyoutani learned three things about Otsuka in the first five minutes he spent around her. One, she wasn’t anything like Oikawa’s fangirls. Oikawa’s admirers were nameless, faceless people who brought him treats and simpered over him pathetically, not knowing that you couldn’t buy love. Otsuka was quiet until she needed to talk and she was not one to babble on and on about things people didn’t care for. In fact, she only talked when she needed to. Kyoutani, grudgingly, admired her for it. Just a little bit. Two, Otsuka came from America, but she was born in Japan. Her Japanese was a bit choppy at times, but it was clear that she had grown up speaking the language. She even taught Yahaba how to say a few longer phrases in English. And three, Otsuka Emiko was insanely hard to hate. 

Kyoutani could hate people rather easily. But this was different. Otsuka was just so  _ nice.  _ There wasn’t any other word for it. Kyoutani really wanted to hate her with all he had. He didn’t want her to come on their not-date, he didn’t want Yahaba to laugh this hard around her, he didn’t want her here with them, here at school, or here in Japan. But he just couldn’t bring himself to snap at her. Not when she was trying to include him in their conversations, not when she walked with her shoulders back and head high, brown hair tumbling down her back gracefully. 

So if he couldn’t hate Otsuka, he figured he might as well hate Yahaba. Therefore, Kyoutani didn’t speak to the setter, answering only to Otsuka shortly. 

“Yahaba-san, where are we going?” Otsuka asked quietly. 

“You’ll see. It’s a pretty great place,” Yahaba beamed at her.  _ Yahaba. So quick to please girls when they turned toward him. Like that one blonde pigtail girl on Karasuno… _

“Kyoutani-san, do you have proof that we are, indeed, going to a nice place and not going to be murdered?” Otsuka looked at him solemnly with her calculating grey eyes. 

“It won’t be us getting murdered,” Kyoutani glared at Yahaba, who stuck his tongue out in retaliation. 

“Hey,” Yahaba whispered to him out of the corner of his mouth, once Otsuka had strode in front of the two of them. Kyoutani ignored him, pretending to be interested in the trees surrounding the sidewalk they were on. “Hey,” Yahaba hissed. Kyoutani didn’t answer him. Yahaba sighed and poked him in the shoulder. When that didn’t work, Yahaba kicked at his shoes. That got Kyoutani pissed.  _ My fucking sister gave me these, yes, go ahead and kick them, since I dressed up for you and it got fucking ruined by a fucking girl who I can’t hate and this is what I get for catching fucking feelings- _

“What?” Kyoutani growled between gritted teeth, quiet enough for Otsuka not to hear and loud enough to make his point. 

“What’s up with you?” Yahaba sneered at him.  _ This was supposed to be a not-date, and now it’s a date between you and your soon-to-be-girlfriend. I’m mad. I’m sad. I shouldn’t be mad or sad because this is what I expected. I shouldn’t have expected a not-date. I got nervous for you. I got dressed up for you. I liked you.  _

“Nothing,” Kyoutani huffed. 

“Liar,” Yahaba proclaimed. Kyoutani didn’t say anything. If he opened his mouth again, he feared that flowers would spill out, not words. “Fine. Be silent.” 

Yahaba brushed past Kyoutani and started chatting with Otsuka again, his mood shifting abruptly. Otsuka sent a glance at him, tilting her head in confusion. She gestured for him to hurry up and walk with them. Kyoutani shook his head and looked away from her. He stared up at the trees, the leaves that rustled quietly, the branches that harbored dozens of tiny pink flowers.  _ At least they’re not yellow.  _

Kyoutani walked behind the two of them, watching their arms bump against each other and their matching smiles. He ignored the sharp sting that pierced at his heart when he saw Otsuka punch Yahaba in the shoulder gently, getting Yahaba to wince comically and flick at her long hair.  _ Did I take my pills today? Dammit, I should have brought them with me,  _ Kyoutani thought furiously, wrenching his gaze away from Otsuka and Yahaba. 

“Walk faster, dipshit!” Yahaba yelled at him, then started sprinting away, clearly thinking that Kyoutani was going to chase him. Kyoutani would have, if his head hadn’t started swirling and his chest closing up. He rubbed at his throat, biting back the yelp of pain that had almost threatened to burst out. Otsuka was standing where Yahaba had left her, watching the setter run away. She turned to face Kyoutani, who was now bent over, his hands on his knees and staring at the concrete. 

“He is an idiot,” Otsuka tsk-ed, sending one last glance over her shoulder at the retreating Yahaba and walking toward Kyoutani. 

“Yeah,” Kyoutani forced out, the world swimming before his eyes. “He sucks.”

“You two are good friends, no?” Otsuka tilted her head, bending down a little to look at him in the eyes, a curtain of brown hair falling into her face. She pushed it away. Kyoutani gritted his teeth and looked back at her, his brown eyes meeting her grey ones. 

“Sure,” Kyoutani growled. 

“Why do you call him an idiot?” Otsuka asked, a crease between her eyebrows showing that she truly was confused. Kyoutani wondered if she’d ever had friends before. 

“Uh…” Kyoutani wrinkled his forehead, pondering how to explain this. He settled for the simplest way. “I hate his guts, he hates mine, we’re friends.”

“Oh,” Otsuka blinked. Kyoutani sighed inwardly. He didn’t think he would sigh physically, it would have literally blinded him with pain to breathe normally.

“So…” Kyoutani looked back down at the concrete, his palms starting to rub against his jeans. He readjusted them and swallowed the sick feeling that was rising in his throat. “It’s comfortable being around him. Comfortable to the point... where we can insult each other, ya know?”

“No,” Otsuka hummed. “But I understand.”

_ Why am I talking to her? She crashed my not-date. I should hate her. I’ve felt hate before, why am I not feeling it now? Dammit, dammit, dammit. Why can’t I hate her? _

“You seem nice,” Kyoutani said. He cursed himself.

“Do I?” Otsuka mused. “I’m too… what is the word?” Otsuka rubbed at her neck. “I am too blunt, I have been inform.”

“Informed,” Kyoutani corrected, wincing at another wave of pain and at the embarrassed flush on Otsuka’s face. “Nah. It’s a good trait to have.”

“You think…” Otsuka squinted vaguely over Kyoutani’s shoulder, the gears in her mind turning. “You think Yahaba-san likes it?”

Kyoutani wanted to say no. He wanted to make Otsuka’s face crumple. He wanted to see her sigh in disappointment and make her leave Yahaba alone, leave them alone. But one look at her grey eyes sparkling with hope doused all his anger away. Kyoutani was hopeless, helpless against Otsuka.   
“Yeah,” Kyoutani sighed. “He likes…”

Yahaba liked music. He liked rain, he liked the quiet and he liked the satisfaction of working hard and finishing something on time. He liked the sound of pencils scratching on paper. He liked eyeliner, he liked how it made him look. He liked the smell of freshly-cut grass at dawn, the blades of green still wet with dew. Yahaba liked sunrises, he claimed that they were better than sunsets. He liked to tease Kyoutani, he liked to get on people’s last nerve. 

Kyoutani knew this because Yahaba told him. Well, some of them. He never would have guessed that Yahaba liked pencil-sounds. But that didn’t matter, because Yahaba had told  _ him.  _ When they were in the hospital, Kyoutani learned tons of things about Yahaba because he’d observed the setter as they did homework, observed him as they just lay on the hospital bed and talked. And Kyoutani was a fool for thinking all that talking, all that information had meant something. Or maybe Yahaba was the fool, for throwing it all away. Kyoutani was a petty fucker, and he wasn’t about to lose this game of carelessness. 

“He likes you,” Kyoutani straightened up and looked down at Otsuka. 

“You think so?” Otsuka smiled, cocking her head. “He seems like a good person to be around.”

“Yeah. I can tell. And I’m bad as fuck at reading people, so you can tell it’s pretty obvious,” Kyoutani shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. 

“That’s nice to know,” Otsuka bounced on the balls of her feet slowly. Another difference. Any of Oikawa’s fangirls would have lost their minds and souls after hearing the great Oikawa Tooru perhaps liking them back. Otsuka was not losing her mind nor her soul, but her cheeks were dusted with a light pink and her mouth was curved up gently. “I may like him as well.”

“Uh huh,” Kyoutani clicked his tongue, and his gaze shifted to see a small figure running back toward them, growing larger by the second. “Speak of the motherfucking devil. Here he is.”

“You… guys… didn’t… follow!” Yahaba gasped for breath, damn near collapsing on the sidewalk, his chest heaving. 

“No, we did not,” Otsuka shook her head. Yahaba glared at Kyoutani. 

“Shut up,” Kyoutani said, before Yahaba could snap at him. “We’re not running. We were having a conversation.”

“Kyoutani-san is a nice person,” Otsuka commented. “He isn’t an asshole like you claimed he was, Yahaba-san.”

“YOU SAID WHAT?!” Kyoutani roared, taking two large strides toward Yahaba, who stopped his exhaustion to go nose-to-nose with him. “You fucking bi-”

“I said the truth,” Yahaba snarled, his brown eyes glittering menacingly. “I don’t lie.”

“Well, guess what,  _ bitch?  _ That itself was a lie, so I guess you’re the goddamn Pinocchio now,” Kyoutani growled. 

“Pinocchio would be better than some tennis-ball head,” Yahaba shot. 

“Tennis-ball head is better than a useless shit.”

“You’re both going to be run over,” Otsuka’s voice rang out, and the two boys both jerked away from each other to lurch back to the sidewalk. Kyoutani glared at Yahaba.  _ Fuck. Why do I- did I- like this son of a bitch again?  _ “For the record, there was no car,” Otsuka shrugged. Kyoutani and Yahaba looked at her. “Are you sure you two are best friends?”

_ Best friends? Friends?  _

“Uh…” Yahaba looked at Otsuka, then at Kyoutani. “Maybe?”

“Well?” Otsuka looked at Kyoutani. Kyoutani shook his head vigorously, and Yahaba shoved him off the sidewalk and onto the road. Kyoutani stepped back onto the concrete with a scowl. 

“Something like that,” Kyoutani mumbled. He could see Yahaba puffing out his chest proudly next to him. 

“Great. Let’s go,” Otsuka declared, swiveled on her heel, and started marching in the direction of where Yahaba had run back from. Kyoutani began to follow, but Yahaba stopped him by stepping in front of him. Kyoutani raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. 

“Look, man. Don’t try hitting on her,” Yahaba warned, sniffed the air haughtily and ran after Otsuka, jogging next to her and striking up a conversation. Kyoutani felt his legs moving already. So it was confirmed. Yahaba liked her. She liked him. What was next? Would they become boyfriend and girlfriend? Kyoutani, being a selfish prick and an arrogant bitch, did not like the idea of them being partners whatsoever. 

“I’m fucked,” Kyoutani breathed, stuffing his hands back into his pockets and kicking a rock before trudging after the soon-to-be couple. 


End file.
